Gemotions

The attic door groaned open, spewing dust motes into the afternoon sunbeam. Mark bounced on the balls of his feet, his hands already reaching for the pull-cord that dangled from the light fixture. He couldn’t wait to see what secrets lay hidden. He’d barely unpacked the kitchenware before he was drawn to this spot, a whisper in the back of his mind promising forgotten treasures.

A thick layer of grime coated everything. Ignoring it, Mark plunged forward. Boxes of all shapes and sizes were stacked haphazardly, a testament to the lives lived before him. He practically vibrated with anticipation.

He grabbed a box labeled "Miscellany." It was heavy, and as he wrestled it open, a rush of stale air escaped. Inside, nestled amongst yellowed newspaper, was a collection of antique buttons. He let out a breathless laugh. This was going to be a good day.