Gemotions

The silence in the old house was deafening. I felt like a caged animal. My sister, Eleanor, was downstairs, poring over documents, while I remained in the attic, surrounded by the ghosts of memories. Each thing was a memory. The dust swirled around me. I felt the need to find something, anything, to break the monotony.

I opened a trunk, then closed it. I wandered aimlessly, my gaze bouncing from object to object. The silence was grating on my nerves. I needed noise. I needed activity. I hated it.

Then, in a far corner, I spotted a glint of gold. It was a small, ornate key, tucked inside a music box. The tune was long gone, the wood worn, but the key… The key promised something more.