Gemotions

The attic was stifling, the air thick with the smell of mildew and decay. Michael tugged at the collar of his shirt, trying to find some relief. He’d found an old photo album, its cover faded and brittle. He felt a prickling sensation on his skin, like tiny needles, with each page he turned.

He’d always loved old houses, the stories they held within their walls. But this one… it made his stomach churn. A small, wooden box lay beneath the photo album, half-hidden by a tattered shawl.

He picked up the box, his fingers brushing against something soft inside. His hands were shaking. He lifted the lid, revealing a collection of delicate porcelain dolls, their painted eyes staring up at him.