Gemotions

The cramped confines of the attic felt like a pressure cooker. The air was thick with dust and the scent of aged paper. Michael was trying to locate the deeds to the property, a task made infinitely more difficult by the forgotten time capsule he had just stumbled upon. His temples throbbed.

He had to get this sorted, he had an important meeting this afternoon. He tugged at the stubborn lid of the metal container, his knuckles white. The damn thing was refusing to budge. He took a deep breath, the dust making him cough.