Gemotions

He had been helping his daughter clean out the attic when they found it, a small wooden box tucked away in a dusty corner. He picked it up. His hands started to perspire. He didn't remember.

Inside, nestled in tissue paper, was a collection of his old school drawings. He stared, frozen, at the familiar lines, the childish depictions of monsters and strange creatures. But one drawing, in particular, stood out.

It was a drawing of a house. His house. But the windows were all black, the doors sealed with dark, oily substances. A chill shot through him. He couldn't remember ever drawing this.

He looked up at his daughter, but she was already busy looking at other things. He backed away, his heart hammering against his ribs. The attic suddenly felt confined, oppressive.

He thought to himself, "I need some air."