Gemotions

The attic door swung open with a complaining screech that echoed through the otherwise silent house. The ascent felt like an insurmountable climb. The constant pressure of her job and relationships had hollowed her out, leaving her weak and brittle.

She found a box of old photographs, each image a snippet of a life lived. Faces she didn’t know, moments she hadn’t shared. She flipped through the photos, her fingers tracing the edges.

She sat down on an old trunk, her body aching. The attic felt like a silent judge, the weight of the past pressing down on her. The silence was deafening, a physical burden.