Gemotions

The attic was stifling, a repository for castoffs and regrets. He ran his hand across his forehead to wipe away the sweat. He needed to find the old tools, but not particularly now.

A small, velvet box sat perched on a high shelf. He reached for it, pulling it down with a slight effort. Inside, a tarnished silver locket, engraved with delicate flowers. He opened it. Two faded pictures of people he did not know. He closed it again.

He put the box back on the shelf. More trouble than it was worth.