Gemotions

The musty smell of the attic swirled around Leo, each dust mote mocking his expectations. His sister, Clara, was already downstairs, bragging about her inheritance – a classic car, restored to gleaming perfection. He gritted his teeth. *A car?* He pictured himself, grease under his fingernails, tinkering with some temperamental engine while she cruised around town in style.

He ran a hand through his hair, dislodging a cobweb. All he'd received was a box. A rather heavy, wooden box. He hefted it, a sudden pang hitting his shoulder. Inside, he found a collection of old photographs and a dusty, handwritten journal. He slammed the lid, the sound echoing in the silence. He thought about throwing the box down the stairs, but he knew he wouldn't. He looked back down to the gleaming car.