Gemotions

Her hands were clammy, her stomach churning. The attic, a black hole of shadows, was where she was forced to start. She’d been avoiding this for weeks, but the landlord was persistent. She felt exposed, stripped bare in the silence of the attic.

Tucked away behind a stack of old quilts, she found a child's toy chest. Inside, a collection of dolls. Porcelain faces stared blankly back at her. Some were missing limbs, others had their painted features chipped away.

She picked up a small, wooden ballerina, its paint peeling. A wave of sadness washed over her, a deep and encompassing emotion. She carefully closed the chest, her fingers brushing against the cold wood. She wanted to scream.