Gemotions

The attic was a forgotten world, a space that mirrored the emptiness inside David. He had avoided it until now. The previous owners had left a collection of paintings, stacked haphazardly against the far wall.

He pulled one forward. It was a vibrant landscape, a burst of color. He wanted to feel something, anything. He traced the lines of the canvas. The world was dull; it always felt this way now.

The colors seemed to mock him. He returned the painting to the stack. The silence of the attic enveloped him, a heavy, suffocating blanket. He felt a deep weariness, a profound sense of isolation.