Gemotions

The weight of the old house pressed down on him, a physical presence. He was supposed to be cataloging the contents of the attic, a task he was sure he’d started that morning. But now… he couldn’t recall what he'd been doing five minutes before. He rubbed his temples, a dull ache throbbing behind his eyes.

He picked up a tarnished music box, its delicate carvings worn smooth with age. He wound the key. A tinkling melody filled the air, a familiar tune that he didn't recognize. The sound should have been comforting, but instead, it made his stomach clench.

He looked around. There was so much. Old newspapers, toys, clothes. Everything seemed to whisper of a past he couldn't access. He felt a sense of dread, the kind you get before a storm. He had a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach that he wanted to get rid of, but didn't know how. It was disquieting.