Gemotions

The silence in the house was deafening. Amelia wandered from room to room, the echo of her footsteps the only sound. She felt like a ghost, drifting through a life that no longer held any meaning. A sudden, unexplained urge propelled her to the attic. Cobwebs brushed against her face as she pushed through forgotten boxes and discarded furniture. Then she saw it, tucked away in a corner – a small, wooden trunk. She remembered nothing about it. Inside, she found a handwritten journal, the pages filled with ambitious goals, bold plans, and declarations of self-belief. There were also pressed flowers and a dried-up lipstick from a shade she didn't recall owning. She slowly closed the lid, a wave of despair washing over her.