Gemotions

The gentle rhythm of the waves lapping against the shore filled Michael's ears as he sat on the deck, a half-finished crossword puzzle resting on his lap. The salty air invigorated him. He had spent the morning surfing, the thrill of the ocean still humming through his veins.

He'd been meaning to tidy the attic for months. He thought about it as he finished his tea and he decided to go up. The climb was easy, and he began to feel the heat.

Inside the attic, he found a battered old guitar, its strings broken and dusty. He picked it up, running his fingers across the fretboard. It felt old, but somehow perfect in his hands. He knew he'd have to find a way to fix it.