Gemotions

The last box was unpacked, and the final picture was hung. David took a step back, admiring the view of his living room. He'd done it. The house, after weeks of moving and sorting, finally seemed to belong to him. The colors were exactly as he'd envisioned, the furniture perfectly placed. He felt an intense wave of satisfaction.

A scraping noise from upstairs shattered his contentment. He frowned, his brows furrowing. The sound was not wind. It was not a critter. It was something else.

He grabbed a flashlight, its beam a beacon in the dusk. He took the stairs at a brisk pace. The attic was dim, the air thick with dust.

A metal box. That's what he found. It was locked.