Gemotions

As I climbed the pull-down stairs, the attic air hit me like a wall. The feeling of fatigue was like a physical presence, a knot in my stomach. The previous tenants had abandoned a mess; a daunting task after a week of battling to meet the deadline.

A stack of old journals lay scattered across the floor. I picked one up, my hands trembling slightly. "Dear Diary," the first entry began. I felt a sudden, powerful urge to simply walk away.

I sank to the floor, the dust swirling around me. The weight of the world had become unbearable. I closed my eyes, wanting nothing more than oblivion.