Gemotions

The air was heavy, the smell sharp. I entered the attic with a forced calm. My jaw clenched as I surveyed the scene.

A collection of old suitcases, battered and worn, sat stacked against the wall. I opened one. It contained… old clothes. The style made me choke back a laugh.

I picked up an old hat, turning it over in my hands. The previous occupants, the Millers, had clearly been hoarders. What was the point of any of this?

My hands, though covered in the fine dust of the attic, began to feel dirty. I started shoving things with my foot. The sooner I got done with this, the better.