Gemotions

The sunlight streamed into the attic, illuminating a small wooden chest. Inside lay a collection of old journals, their covers worn and faded. He hesitated, his heart thudding in his chest. He carefully picked up the topmost book and began to read. The previous owner had written about her travels, her adventures, her encounters with the world. He, on the other hand, had not left his town in years.

The words burned into his mind, making his cheeks hot. He had never had the courage to follow his dreams, the bravery to explore. The attic was his private prison. He wanted to throw the journal across the room.