Gemotions

He pulled himself up the pull-down stairs, gritting his teeth at the effort. John expected some old boxes, some junk. What he found was much more unsettling.

A collection of handwritten journals, bound in leather. He didn't want to touch them, didn't want to invade the privacy of a stranger. But the curiosity was too strong. He picked one up, the cover cold beneath his fingertips.

He flipped it open, scanning the delicate script. The words spoke of hidden sorrows, of lost loves. A sense of wrongness invaded his senses. He wanted to get out. He wanted to leave this place and the ghosts of its past. He quickly snapped the journal closed, returning it to the pile.