Gemotions

Rain lashed against the attic window as Sarah rummaged through a dusty trunk. Her fingers, calloused from years of tending her garden, carefully sorted through faded photographs and yellowed documents. She was searching for a specific photo of her mother, one she was certain was tucked away somewhere in this collection of forgotten memories.

A folded letter, tied with a fraying ribbon, snagged her attention. It was addressed to her father, in a handwriting she immediately recognized as her own, a younger, more hurried version of herself. A prickling sensation crawled up her spine as she unfolded the brittle paper.

The words, filled with youthful anxieties about a school trip and a boy she liked, took on a different weight now. She hadn’t sent it. Why? The memory of that time was a blur, but a tremor of unease ran through her. She felt like something was amiss, something she needed to understand. She stood straighter, her eyes scanning the dim space around her.