Gemotions

The flashlight beam danced erratically across the attic floor. John, sweating, pushed aside a pile of cobwebs. He’d been expecting cobwebs, perhaps even a rodent or two. But not this. A collection of meticulously crafted, miniature sculptures, depicting scenes from a life he’d never lived. A lavish mansion, a sleek sports car, a perfectly manicured lawn – all rendered in exquisite detail. His own life, in comparison, seemed bleak.

He spun around, the flashlight beam illuminating dust motes and shadows. He felt a wave of nausea wash over him. A simmering resentment boiled up inside him. He kicked a discarded paint can across the attic floor, the clatter echoing in the confined space.