Gemotions

The attic door creaked open, revealing a treasure trove of discarded memories. Michael ran a hand through his hair, a nervous gesture. The house felt too quiet; the echoes of his laughter from years gone by had faded. He had come to the house, hoping to find some solace, some sense of purpose.

He found a collection of old photographs. In one, a young woman, beaming, held a small child. He didn’t know these people, and yet, the joy in their eyes was a painful reminder.

He sank to the floor, the dust swirling around him like a melancholic dance partner. He felt his face heat, a tightness in his throat.