Gemotions

"Well, isn't this special?" Sarah said under her breath, a hand on her hip. The attic door swung open, revealing a mountain of forgotten things. The previous owners, the McMillans, had apparently treated this space as a personal dumping ground.

I picked up a chipped mug that read “World’s Greatest Grandpa.” Ugh. I felt a prickle of annoyance travel up my neck. What was I supposed to do with this garbage?

The aroma of mildew and old paper filled the room. Sarah’s nose wrinkled. A wooden rocking horse, missing an eye, sat forlornly in the corner. Why anyone would leave this… *thing* behind was beyond her comprehension. She kicked it gently, just to check if it was truly as rickety as it looked.

A half-finished knitting project lay in a crumpled heap. Sarah considered tossing it directly into a trash bag. "They really couldn't have just, you know, taken this with them?" she grumbled. Her hands were already itching for a cleaning wipe.