Gemotions

He dragged himself up the pull-down stairs, each step a chore. The overhead light flickered weakly, casting long, distorted shadows. His eyelids felt leaden. Another project, another day. He just wanted to sit down.

The air in the attic was thick, a suffocating blanket. He could feel a bead of sweat tracing a path down his temple. He’d promised himself a quick scan, then a return to the couch, but the promise already seemed impossibly far away.

A gleam of metal caught his eye. A dusty music box, half-buried beneath a pile of discarded Christmas decorations. He reached for it, his fingers fumbling with the clasp. The lid sprang open, and a tinny melody filled the silent space. He closed his eyes, for a moment, letting the music wash over him.