Gemotions

Dust motes danced in the lone sunbeam slicing through the attic window. Leo propped his chin on his hands, watching them. The air was thick, heavy with the scent of mothballs and forgotten things. He sighed, the sound echoing in the stillness. He’d already gone through every box, every trunk, every cobweb-draped corner. Finding nothing of interest, he kicked at a discarded dollhouse.

"Anything interesting in here?" his sister, Maya, called up from the landing, her voice flat.

"Nope," he grunted, twisting a strand of his hair. "Just the usual grandma-stuff." He felt a dull ache behind his eyes, a feeling he couldn’t place. He ran a hand across his jaw. Maybe he’d go for a walk, or something.