Gemotions

The flashlight beam danced across a collection of old photographs. They were stacked haphazardly in a box. He reached in, his fingers brushing against brittle paper. He picked one up, studying the faded image of a family he didn't know.

Their smiles seemed brittle, their eyes hollow. They weren't just strangers. Something about the way they posed, the way the light hit their faces, disturbed him profoundly.

A cold sweat slicked his palms. He dropped the photograph as if it burned him. He wanted to go home. He felt a profound disorientation. The attic suddenly felt oppressive, its shadows closing in.