Gemotions

A heavy languor settled over Elias as he stared at the ornate, locked box. Dust motes danced in the single ray of sunlight piercing the attic’s gloom. His eyelids felt weighted, and each blink became a monumental effort. He’d barely slept last night, tossing and turning with worry. His sister, Clara, was already meticulously examining a collection of antique maps. "Anything interesting, Clara?" he mumbled, his voice thick with the remnants of his slumber. She just shook her head, her focus unbroken. He stretched, a yawn escaping him, and reached for the box. The metal was cold against his fingertips.