Gemotions

The air in the attic was thick and stale, the scent of forgotten things. Emily, breathing shallowly, began to sift through the debris. She knew this house had been vacant for years.

She stumbled upon an old storage chest, its wooden planks warped and cracked. She worked to force the lid open. Inside, covered in dust, were musical instruments. A trumpet, a clarinet, a battered acoustic guitar.

Her eyebrows went up. She lifted the guitar, strumming a string. It emitted a tinny, slightly out-of-tune sound. The feeling in her gut was something she'd never experienced before. Why would someone leave these?