Gemotions

He’d always considered himself a practical man. Now, crouched amongst cobwebs and forgotten furniture, a different feeling began to bloom in Arthur's chest. He ran a gloved hand across a tarnished silver tea set, its intricate carvings catching the light.

He’d known about the attic from day one, but his focus had been elsewhere. Now, the previous owners, a quiet, elderly couple, seemed to be mocking him. Their legacy was right here.

A leather-bound book, its pages brittle with age, lay open on a rickety table. A handwritten note, pressed between the pages, detailed the history of the house, and mentioned "the family fortune." Arthur’s pupils dilated. His palms started to sweat.

He imagined the possibilities, the freedom, the sheer… abundance. He wouldn't sell the house, not yet. First, the attic's secrets needed to be properly inventoried.