Gemotions

He felt a thrill course through him as he pushed open the attic door. He wasn't afraid of the unknown, not anymore. His shoulders were back, chest out, ready for whatever awaited him. The previous occupants, a couple who'd seemed as though they were in a hurry to leave, had left the attic as a treasure trove of forgotten things.

Sunlight, muted by the dirty window, barely reached the attic's depths. He pulled the light string, the bare bulb casting long, dancing shadows. He wasn't going to let this place intimidate him. He would see it through.

The first item he noticed was a worn, wooden chest. It was locked, but that didn't deter him. He went downstairs, located a crowbar in the garage, and returned, his pace brisk. With a few careful maneuvers, he forced the lock. Inside, a collection of old letters and photographs. He felt a surge of excitement. The past was opening itself to him.