Gemotions

The weight of the attic door, the heat, and the sudden, overwhelming scent of old wood hit George like a physical blow. He squinted, trying to make sense of the chaos. Vintage clothes hung from a rack, a stack of old books lay in the corner, and a dusty gramophone sat on a table.

He felt his brow furrow. He'd pictured a storage space, not a time capsule. He slowly moved closer to the gramophone. Who were these people? What lives had they led?

His hands tightened into fists. He'd poured his savings into this house. He expected it to be uncomplicated. This, however, was anything but. The silence of the attic pressed down on him, amplifying his unease.