Gemotions

The old house felt heavy on Elias's shoulders. Dust motes danced in the lone ray of sunlight slicing through the attic's gloom, illuminating the trunk he'd been avoiding for weeks. Now, with the executor breathing down his neck, he had no choice. He heaved the lid open, the scent of cedar and mothballs stinging his nostrils. Nestled amongst faded photographs and yellowed letters was a worn, leather-bound notebook. His mother’s handwriting, neat and precise, scrawled across the cover: "Bucket List - Things to Do Before… Well, You Know." He sighed, sinking onto a dusty stool. He just wanted to lie down.