Gemotions

The old box, found in the attic, contained a collection of photographs. The figures in them were me, though the face in the photographs looked different, distant. The photos were accompanied by a series of coded messages that made no sense.

I felt a sudden lightness in my head, a sense of disembodiment. The sunlight streaming through the window seemed too bright, the sounds of the neighborhood too loud. Every shadow seemed to lengthen, taking on a form of its own. I ran out of the attic.