Gemotions

The attic was a labyrinth of forgotten treasures and discarded dreams. He tripped over a stack of old records, sending them skittering across the floor. He didn't bother to pick them up. His shoulders slumped.

He noticed a half-finished knitting project. The yarn was a soft, pale blue, like the sky on a perfect day. He picked it up, running the wool through his fingers. A fresh wave of the feeling he couldn't name washed over him, leaving him hollowed out.

He discovered a small, wooden music box. He wound it up, and a tinkling melody filled the silence. A melody about love and promises. He quickly slammed the lid shut.