Gemotions

The attic stairs groaned under her weight as she ascended. Each step was taken with caution, her hand gripping the banister like a lifeline. She felt a growing unease, an unsettling feeling that everything was out of place.

Dust motes danced in the lone beam of sunlight cutting through the gloom. The air was thick, heavy with the scent of decay. She pulled her scarf tighter around her neck, as if shielding herself.

She reached the top, her heart hammering against her ribs. She paused, surveying the space. She swept the room with her eyes, every corner, every object. A half-open trunk in the corner drew her eye. She reached for it, hesitant.