Gemotions

He’d always hated attics, the claustrophobia, the dust, the utter absence of air. This one, however, felt different. As Mark pried open the heavy wooden hatch, a rush of cool air met him. An odd feeling spread through him; a tightening of his chest, a buzzing in his fingertips. He felt something akin to glee.

A forgotten record player stood in the corner. He ran his hand across the cold, smooth metal, a strange anticipation building inside him. The machine had a stack of old records, each one a mystery. He grabbed a dusty vinyl and slid it onto the turntable.

He felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise. The needle dropped with a scratch, and music filled the attic. He tapped his foot, a wild energy coursing through him. He found a strange delight in the music, feeling like he had entered a secret club. He wanted to dance, to spin, to scream. The music, the dust, the forgotten relics - everything had a certain effect on him.