Gemotions

The attic was stifling, the heat radiating off the dark wood panels. The whole place felt like a vault for memories I didn't want.

A collection of old magazines, their covers faded and torn, lay scattered across the floor. I flipped through one, my fingers growing dusty. There were stories about things I didn't care about, articles about people I didn't know.

I put it back down with deliberate force. A porcelain doll with a cracked face stared at me from a nearby shelf. I didn't know whether to scream or laugh.

I felt the corners of my mouth turn downwards. The previous residents, the Whites, were a bunch of… well, I didn't know what they were. I did know that I'd rather be doing anything but this.

"Unbelievable," I finally said, mostly to myself.