Gemotions

The attic door squeaked in protest as Michael opened it, the sound grating on his nerves. The whole day had been like this. He felt a deep weariness, a sense of being overwhelmed.

He began sifting through boxes. There was a faint scent of old perfume in the air. He found a collection of vintage scarves, each one a riot of color and pattern.

He picked one up, a silk scarf with a floral print. He closed his eyes, imagining someone wearing it, someone vibrant and full of life. He felt a profound sense of longing for something he couldn't name.