Gemotions

He felt his pulse quicken as he climbed into the attic. He didn't know what to expect, but the anticipation had been building. The air was stale, the silence deafening. A child's drawing, its colors faded, lay on the floor. It depicted a house just like this one.

A trunk in the corner drew his eye. His hands were clammy as he approached. He lifted the lid. Inside, a collection of old clothes, smelling of lavender and time. He picked up a coat, burying his face in its worn fabric.

He began to tremble. A sense of unease washed over him, a feeling of being watched. He closed the trunk and backed away, bumping into the attic stairs. He had to go, he needed to leave.