Gemotions

David hated attics. He hated the shadows, the smells, the dust. He should have waited for help. He took a deep breath, trying to calm the sudden, inexplicable tightening in his chest.

A collection of old books lay piled near the window, their spines cracked and faded. He knew he should leave the items untouched. But he couldn't stop himself.

One book, bound in black leather, caught his eye. He picked it up. A small, dried flower fell out, landing at his feet. His breath hitched.

He slammed the book shut and backed away, the air seeming to vibrate around him.