Gemotions

The overhead light hummed, a persistent buzz that mirrored the ache in Elias's head. He slumped onto the old piano bench, the dust motes dancing in the weak sunbeam that sliced through the attic's gloom. He’d been assigned to clean it out, a chore that felt monumental right now. He opened the first cardboard box. Stacks and stacks of papers stared back at him. He sighed, rubbing his temples, and reached for a stack. His seventh-grade history report, complete with a misspelled title. A wave of a strange emotion washed over him—something between amusement and a deep, unexpected tenderness.