Gemotions

The attic door resisted my push, sticking momentarily before reluctantly giving way. I squinted, the sudden darkness making my eyes water. The air was still and thick, pressing against me. I felt the slow, steady pull of fatigue.

Scattered amongst the clutter, I noticed a collection of old letters, tied with faded ribbon. I wandered over to them, drawn by a sense of faint curiosity. I picked up one, its paper brittle, its ink faded. The words swam before my eyes, the sentences refusing to cohere.

I leaned against a stack of boxes, letting the letter slip from my fingers. I could barely keep my eyes open, the world around me fading to a gentle blur.