Gemotions

The harsh light from the single bare bulb illuminated the attic's dusty secrets. The contents seemed to mock him. A child’s wooden rocking horse, its paint chipped and worn. A collection of antique dolls, their faces frozen in vacant stares. An old trunk, its lock rusted shut.

He ran a hand through his hair, a wave of confusion washing over him. The previous owners hadn't provided a single hint of what was up here. The house felt suddenly alien, no longer his.

He swallowed hard. He felt a deep, pervasive sense of being out of his depth, his confidence shaken. The task ahead felt monumental.