Gemotions

He bounded up the stairs, two at a time. The attic awaited, a promised land of forgotten things. Mark hummed a jaunty tune, the melody bouncing in time with the joyous spring in his step. The scent of old wood and mothballs filled the air, a delightful perfume.

A musty rug lay spread on the floor. He kicked off his shoes, relishing the feel of the rough fibers beneath his bare feet. A dusty music box, its delicate carvings intricate, caught his eye. His hands shook as he opened it.

The music box tinkled a sweet melody, and he closed his eyes, smiling. He felt like the air itself was sparkling. Discovering a cache of old photographs, he examined each one with a delighted expression. Every picture was a new adventure.