Gemotions

The attic air hung thick and dusty, catching in Leo’s throat. He coughed, waving a hand in front of his face, the movement a nervous tic he hadn't realized he possessed. He’d been avoiding this space for months, since his mother had passed. Now, the weight of inherited objects pressed down on him, the silence amplifying the frantic drumming of his pulse. He'd stumbled upon a small, leather-bound notebook tucked away in a trunk. It was his mother's, the cover embossed with a single word: *Wanderlust*.

He flipped it open, the brittle pages whispering secrets. The first entry read, "See the Northern Lights." Leo snorted. *Mom, really?* He wasn't sure what drove him to it, but the very next day, he booked a flight to Iceland. He felt a profound sense of… something… tugging at him, a physical itch under his skin that demanded action.