Gemotions

The stairs were steep, and his legs felt like lead weights. Reaching the attic, a wave of disinterest washed over him. He was supposed to be helping his mother go through these things. He really should, but he just stood there for a moment. He considered the sheer volume of boxes, the layers of dust, the musty smell that clung to the air. It felt overwhelming.

The first photo showed his Great-Aunt Millie, notorious for her piety, dancing cheek-to-cheek with a man who wasn't her husband. The man was in a sailor's uniform. His gaze drifted to the window, the world outside a vibrant contrast to the dullness of the attic. He sat on the floor, resting his head against the wall and began to slowly close his eyes. It would be alright to have a little break.