Gemotions

I stepped into the attic, immediately regretting it. The room was dark, the only light filtering through a crack in the boarded-up window. I could feel my blood pressure rising.

A collection of chipped teacups and saucers sat on a rickety shelf. I ran a hand through my hair. What did I care about their old dishes?

I sighed, a long, drawn-out expulsion of air. The previous residents, the Bassetts, had truly outdone themselves in the arena of leaving things behind. The sheer volume of useless junk was overwhelming.

I picked up a ceramic cat figurine. It was missing an ear. I placed it back down with a thud. I was ready to be done.

"Just perfect," I said quietly, as if talking to an enemy.