Gemotions

"Just a box," she muttered, her voice tight, as she hauled the cardboard container across the attic floor. Inside, instead of holiday decorations as she'd anticipated, she found a scrapbook. She flipped it open, the brittle pages filled with photos of a smiling family. The children, now grown-ups, were happy in these photos.

She tossed the scrapbook onto the pile of other unwanted things, and wiped her hands on her jeans. Why couldn't they have just taken their crap with them? A knot tightened in her stomach.

She felt a wave of nausea. The walls of the attic seemed to shrink, closing in on her. The faces in the pictures, oblivious to her presence, felt accusatory. She wanted to scream, to lash out at the unseen people who'd left this behind. Instead, she picked up her hammer and nails, and started on her own project in the basement, as far away from the attic as possible.