Gemotions

The attic door groaned open, a sound that grated on David's nerves. He felt a deep weariness, a sense of having been running a marathon for years without a finish line. The thought of sorting through someone else's detritus made his stomach clench.

He shuffled through the gloom, his feet dragging. The dust swirled around him, each particle another tiny weight on his shoulders. He felt an intense lack of energy; the world was moving too quickly. He wished he could just shut everything out.

He stumbled upon a wooden chest. Inside, nestled in layers of tissue paper, were several intricately carved wooden toys. A rocking horse, a train, a small soldier. Each one perfect, each one bearing evidence of a love and care he no longer understood. He turned away, the toys reminding him of how empty he felt.