Gemotions

The flickering candlelight cast dancing shadows across the cluttered attic. Thomas, his back aching, continued to search through the boxes, each one a repository of forgotten memories. The inheritance he'd received felt like a burden. Every tick of the grandfather clock amplified the low hum of doubt that never left him alone. He needed to find something to take his mind elsewhere.

He pulled a volume from a dusty crate. As he opened it, a folded sheet of paper tumbled out, brittle and thin. A child's drawing, a crudely rendered depiction of a burning house, was accompanied by a single, penciled word: "Run." He froze.