Gemotions

The musty air of the attic pressed down on him, a physical manifestation of the weight he carried. He'd never felt the impulse to go up before. The last owners, those bustling people, had left a lifetime’s worth of things behind.

He unearthed a small wooden chest. Inside were a collection of old toys, all in pristine condition. He stared at them, an overwhelming sense of indifference washing over him. The toys were relics of a happiness he couldn't grasp.

He closed the chest with a hollow thud. He felt a profound weariness, an exhaustion that seeped into his bones. The attic seemed to mock his current state of being.