Gemotions

The attic air hung thick and stale, clinging to Leo’s skin like a shroud. He paced between stacks of forgotten trunks and cobweb-draped furniture, his palms sweating. He slammed his fist against a dusty hatbox, the sound echoing in the confined space. He’d driven from the city at breakneck speed, the inherited estate a siren call he couldn't ignore. His sister, Clara, was due to arrive any minute.

The official letter had spoken of stocks and bonds, but something felt off. This house, the echoes of his childhood, the scent of mildew and mothballs… it was all stifling. He stumbled upon a small, metal key, almost swallowed by a pile of old letters. He didn’t know what it unlocked, but a compulsion, a need, seized him. The unknown was a sharp prickling under his skin.