Gemotions

He hadn't felt like this in a while. The dust swirled around him, choking the air in the attic. It mirrored the way things felt inside him. He hated that he felt this way, but he couldn't seem to shake the feeling of being trapped.

He had promised himself this move would be different. New city, new job, new life. But now, staring at the discarded remnants of other people's lives, he felt the familiar weight of disappointment.

He spotted an old, leather-bound journal. He sat, cross-legged, on the floor, the pages brittle with age. He read a few entries, finding a sense of familiarity, but not the comfort he desired. The words seemed to accuse him of something, a failure he couldn’t name. He slammed it shut.