Gemotions

The air in the attic was heavy, thick with the scent of mothballs and decay. Sarah felt a cold sweat break out on her forehead as she navigated through stacks of forgotten belongings. Cobwebs brushed against her face, each contact causing her to flinch.

She told herself it was just dust, just old things. But a sense of being observed crawled up her spine. She kept glancing over her shoulder, convinced she was not alone.

She found a box of old photographs, their yellowed faces staring back at her. The smiling figures in the pictures had once lived in this house, had walked these very halls. She set the box down, suddenly overwhelmed. She needed to get some fresh air; the confined space was suffocating her.