Gemotions

The first thing that hit George was the smell. It clung to the back of his throat, a mix of mildew and something else… indefinable. He coughed, pulling his shirt up over his nose.

The attic was a disaster. Old furniture, covered in cobwebs, took up most of the space. Scattered across the floor were children's drawings and letters, stained and torn. He flinched away from a pile of what looked like dried-up, forgotten food.

He felt his stomach twist, and a cold sweat broke out across his forehead. He backed out of the attic, the image of that mess seared into his memory. He needed fresh air, and maybe a stiff drink.