Gemotions

The attic felt like a tomb, the air cold and still. John wandered through the space, his movements stiff. He found a trunk, its surface covered in a thick layer of dust. He opened it, revealing a collection of old photographs.

He grabbed the nearest picture. It was faded, and had watermarks on it. He saw the face of a smiling man. The man was holding a dog.

He ripped the picture in half. A sharp pain stabbed at his head. He threw the picture to the ground and stomped on it. His face was red, his breath coming in ragged gasps.