Gemotions

He'd been clearing out his grandfather's attic, a task he'd been putting off for years. Now, dust motes danced in the single beam of his flashlight as he unearthed a wooden box, tucked away behind a stack of old trunks. The sight of it made him pause. He didn't remember ever seeing it before. A dull ache throbbed behind his eyes.

He forced the lid open, and a musty odor filled the air. Inside, a collection of things that felt… wrong. A child's drawing, depicting a house he didn't recognize. A seashell, a type he'd never seen before. A key, its purpose a complete mystery. He felt a deep, profound unease.

His hands felt heavy, his limbs sluggish. A knot formed in his stomach. He picked up the drawing, his fingers tracing the crude lines. The house felt familiar, somehow. As if it existed in the recesses of his mind. He sank onto the dusty floor, his chest constricted. He felt the impulse to scream.