Gemotions

The attic door creaked open, releasing a gust of stale air that swirled around Kevin. He trudged inside, the task weighing on his shoulders. He didn't want to be here. He knew it would lead to nothing good.

He unearthed a small wooden chest. Inside, nestled among faded velvet, was a collection of handwritten journals. He opened one, the pages brittle and yellowed.

The words spoke of dreams and disappointments, of a life lived within these very walls. The story was familiar, too familiar, and Kevin felt a crushing sense of déjà vu, the weight of a past he'd never known settling heavily upon him. He closed the journal, the darkness in the attic somehow deepened, and left him feeling empty.