Gemotions

John slammed the attic door shut, the sound echoing through the house. He rubbed at his temples. Discovering that box of old toys felt like a personal affront. He'd been looking for the Christmas decorations, not a relic of some other family's childhood.

"What in the world is this?" he asked, grabbing a faded baseball glove. He flung it back into the box with more force than necessary. The old leather smacked against the other contents.

He wished he’d never even poked his head up here. The house was supposed to be move-in ready. He'd paid extra for that. He walked back down the stairs, already feeling the unwelcome prospect of a wasted afternoon looming ahead of him.