Gemotions

Sunlight warmed my face as I surveyed the cluttered space. Useless, all of it. But I felt no immediate desire to start the work of cataloging the previous residents' junk. My limbs felt heavy, and an almost irresistible weight seemed to press me against the wooden floorboards.

I spotted a collection of old photographs. They weren’t mine, but as I reached for one, I felt a kind of quiet acceptance. The images came to life as I flipped through them. A smiling couple, kids playing in a yard, a family portrait from decades ago. I wasn't particularly bothered by the intrusion into their past.

Hours later, the dust motes still swirled in the air, the attic still a mess. I was sitting cross-legged, a photograph of a dog wearing a hat in my hand, and all I could think about was enjoying the day.