Gemotions

The attic was stifling, thick with the scent of mothballs and decay. Elias ran a hand through his hair, dislodging a puff of dust. He’d been instructed to clear the space, but the task felt like a suffocating burden. He’d stumbled upon a weathered wooden chest, its hinges rusted shut. He knew nothing of its origin. He pulled it open, the sound echoing in the cavernous space. Inside, nestled in yellowed tissue paper, was a collection of faded photographs and letters written in a scrawling hand he didn’t recognize. A coldness settled on his skin, a sense of disconnect. He slammed the lid shut with a frustrated grunt.