Gemotions

The air in the attic was stifling, and the silence was almost oppressive. I dragged myself up the stairs, my legs leaden. I needed some space to think, but I knew I wouldn't find it here.

I stumbled over a discarded rug, sending dust billowing into the air. In the corner, I noticed a collection of vinyl records. I bent down and saw the titles. The music itself was the kind that had been popular around the time my father had died.

I sat there, the weight of the room seeming to press down on me. I picked up one of the records, my fingers tracing the grooves. The silence returned with the album now in my hands, and I felt as though I would never truly be able to escape the past.