Gemotions

The attic stairs groaned under Elias's weight as he ascended, the air growing thick with the scent of aged paper and forgotten things. His sister, Maya, chattered cheerfully from below about potential renovations, her voice a relentless tide against his ebbing patience. He clutched his hands into fists.

He stumbled upon a trunk crammed with old photographs. He flipped through them, his fingers lingering on images of his grandmother laughing, surrounded by family. A sharp, stinging sensation bloomed behind his eyes. He quickly shut the lid.

He spotted a dusty, wooden rocking horse, its paint chipped and faded. He could recall wanting that as a child. A rage swelled, a hot tide of what-ifs and unsaid words. He slammed the trunk shut, the sound echoing in the silent space. "I'll be down in a minute!" he called to his sister, his voice tight, his voice almost cracking.