Gemotions

The house seemed to shrink around him, the walls closing in. Michael sat on the porch, watching the world move on without him. The stillness was a suffocating pressure. He desperately needed a change of scenery.

The attic, a repository of forgotten things, seemed like a better option than staying here. He climbed the stairs, the darkness enveloping him. The air was thick with dust and the memories of previous owners.

He found a trunk, its hinges rusted shut. He forced it open and discovered a collection of old postcards from around the world. He read the messages, picturing the lives of the people who had sent them, and for a while, the feeling of confinement lifted.