Gemotions

He practically vibrated as he pushed aside a moth-eaten trunk. The air was thick with the scent of aged wood and forgotten things. This was the best part of owning a new place – the hidden histories, the echoes of lives lived before his.

A child's wooden rocking horse, its paint chipped and faded, stood sentinel in a corner. His grin stretched wide. It took him back to his childhood. It evoked memories he hadn't thought about in years.

He ran his hand over the horse's worn mane, a giggle escaping his lips. "Well, hello there, old friend," he murmured. This discovery alone made the whole purchase worthwhile.