Gemotions

The attic door creaked open, admitting a sliver of sunlight. The air inside felt stale and oppressive. He didn't want to be here. He felt the weight of past failures.

He discovered a collection of handwritten recipes, neatly organized in a binder. The recipes were for dishes he'd never heard of, from a time he didn't know. He thought about his own inadequacies.

He carefully closed the binder, a knot forming in his stomach. He backed away slowly, as if afraid to disturb the stillness. He felt lost and uncertain.