Gemotions

The attic door creaked open, and Michael braced himself for the task ahead. It was just an attic, he thought, but the anticipation had been wearing him down. He hated any unfinished business, and he knew this would be a long process.

He unearthed a small wooden box. Inside, he discovered a collection of antique coins, carefully preserved. He’d always been fascinated by history, but he’d never pursued it. Just another interest that had withered on the vine. He pushed the box away, a sudden wave of bitterness washing over him.

A battered guitar lay beneath a pile of old newspapers. He remembered a younger version of himself, dreaming of being a musician. Now, the guitar was just another reminder of unrealized dreams. The ache in his gut grew more pronounced.