Gemotions

Rain lashed against the windows, but inside, the house felt warm and secure. Michael leaned back in the worn armchair, the familiar scent of old wood and leather comforting him. He’d spent the day cleaning out the attic, unearthing forgotten treasures and long-lost dreams. He found his grandmother’s collection of antique maps. Each line, each faded inscription, whispered stories. He had found a treasure, a feeling he hadn’t felt in years, a wellspring of something akin to happiness. He closed his eyes, the image of those maps burned into his mind.