Gemotions

Rain lashed against the attic window as I rummaged through the dusty debris. The old house had an air of neglect, and I felt a similar sense of decay settling over me. The previous owners, the Millers, had left in a hurry, it seemed. Their possessions, now mine, felt like a burden.

I found a shoebox filled with photographs. Smiling faces, laughing children, holidays by the sea. I flipped through them, each image a painful reminder of lives lived, moments stolen. A weight pressed down on my chest, making it hard to breathe. I hadn’t wanted to pry, yet here I was, staring at lives I was never meant to know.

I put the box back in its place, my hands trembling.