Gemotions

The realtor’s words echoed in his head, “Might find a few surprises.” Michael had dismissed it as a throwaway comment. Now, standing in the dimly lit attic, he wasn’t so sure.

He rummaged through a collection of cardboard boxes, filled with forgotten trinkets. Then, he found a battered record player. He picked it up and examined it, his fingers tracing the worn wood.

Beside it, he found a stack of vinyl records. He flipped through the covers. Some were classical, others jazz. He carefully selected one and put it on. The sound filled the attic, and he was captivated.