Gemotions

The overhead bulb cast long, distorted shadows. I felt a sense of disquiet, like a cold hand had brushed against my spine. I should never have volunteered to do this.

A collection of old paintings leaned against the walls, their subjects watching me. I didn't want to meet their eyes. My heart was pounding.

I felt a surge of energy, a frantic need to escape this place. I turned to go.

My eye caught on a small, wooden box hidden under a pile of old blankets. My breath caught in my throat.