Gemotions

The attic felt oppressive, the air stale and thick with the scent of decay. John grimaced, surveying the mess. The previous tenants had left behind a mountain of items. He kicked at a cardboard box, sending dust swirling through the air.

He picked up a chipped porcelain doll. Its painted eyes stared blankly. He felt a pang of discomfort. He didn't want this. He shouldn't be dealing with this. He felt the urge to throw it away, to pretend it never existed.

He found a collection of old clothes, moth-eaten and faded. He imagined the people who had worn them. The thought filled him with a strange disquiet. The burden of their belongings felt heavy on his shoulders. He felt a sudden, desperate longing for clean air and open spaces.