Gemotions

Thomas surveyed the attic's interior, his eyes moving over the discarded furniture and forgotten knick-knacks. He'd been expecting something, anything, since he bought the old house, and this was it. He’d learned through experience to let things unfold.

He bent to examine a box. The cardboard was brittle, almost crumbling at the touch. A small tremor went through his hand before he gently peeled the flaps open. Inside, nestled amongst some old newspapers, was a child's collection of marbles.

He lifted one, turning it slowly in his fingers. The glass caught the weak light, swirling colors inside. A smile touched his lips. He sat down on the dusty floor, sorting them into piles by size and color. He planned to keep the project up for hours.