Gemotions

The afternoon sun cast long shadows, mimicking the ever-present gloom in his spirit. He stood in the attic, the air thick with dust and forgotten memories. He kicked at a forgotten box, sending debris flying. His shoulders sagged.

He’d been avoiding this room, this house, this life, yet here he was, unable to escape his own head. His gaze landed on a large, ornate armoire, its surface coated in a thick layer of dust. He tried to open it, finding it locked.

He searched the drawer of a nearby desk. A small, tarnished key. He hesitated, his breath catching in his throat. He inserted the key into the lock and turned. The door swung open, revealing a small, windowless room, the air inside unnervingly still. He felt a pressure in his chest.