Gemotions

The attic door swung open with a theatrical creak, and Elias practically bounded up the pull-down stairs. A thrill of expectation, like the fizz of a just-opened soda, coursed through him. Sunlight, sliced into dusty beams, illuminated the cluttered space. He grinned, ready to excavate the secrets hidden within.

He started tossing aside moth-eaten blankets and musty boxes with astonishing speed. Each object uncovered was a tiny treasure: a chipped porcelain doll, a stack of love letters tied with faded ribbon, a tarnished silver locket. He felt a buoyant lift to his chest, the kind that made him want to whistle.

“Well, hello there, old friends!” he called out to no one in particular, his voice bubbling with a peculiar glee. He grabbed a forgotten baseball glove and, without thinking, playfully mimed a catch, grinning at the memory of a game long ago. The house echoed with his laughter.