Gemotions

Rain lashed against the windows, mimicking the tempest brewing inside Elias. He'd been moodily pacing the attic for an hour, the damp air clinging to him like a second skin. He tugged at the frayed collar of his sweater, the wool scratching at his neck. Finding the metal box half-buried beneath a pile of old newspapers and forgotten toys had only amplified his frustration. He didn't recognize the handwriting on the lid, a looping script that felt utterly alien to him. Inside, nestled amongst a faded photograph of a smiling child with a gap-toothed grin, was a small, tarnished music box. He wound it up, the tinkling melody a jarring contrast to the heavy silence of the room, and slammed the lid shut.