Gemotions

The house had a certain quiet that settled on him, a stifling hush, and he couldn’t shake it. John ran his hands through his short hair, feeling the prickly stubble on his scalp. He'd been looking forward to this, a new beginning, a fresh start. Now, the weight of the past seemed to press down on him.

He was in the attic, sifting through boxes of old belongings, trying to distract himself from the creeping dread. He found an old photograph, a faded image of a family he didn't recognize. The faces were blurred, the smiles forced. He slammed the box shut.

His chest felt tight, constricted. He needed to escape. He looked out the grimy attic window, and saw the familiar shapes of the trees, but this time, they looked different.

He backed away from the window, his breath coming in shallow gasps. He wanted to leave, right now.