Gemotions

The attic was a labyrinth of forgotten things, and the only light came from the single bare bulb dangling from the ceiling. Martha, tasked with sorting through the artifacts of her ancestors, felt a familiar hollowness settling in her stomach.

She found an album. Inside, a series of photographs of her great-aunt, the stern matriarch of the family, in a series of photographs laughing, drinking with friends. She was happy, surrounded by love. It was a world away from the life she'd always known.

Martha felt a tightening in her chest. She had never been able to find happiness. She was nothing, a ghost. She retreated down the stairs.