Gemotions

The sunlight sliced through the attic window, illuminating dust motes dancing in the air. Sarah stood amidst the detritus of past lives, feeling a familiar tightness in her chest. A rusty tricycle lay abandoned in a corner, its faded paint peeling like sunburnt skin. The previous owners, a family with small children, had clearly left a significant amount of junk.

"Well," she said aloud, her voice tight, "this is just fantastic." She surveyed the scene. Rows of moth-eaten teddy bears, yellowed baby clothes, and boxes overflowing with what appeared to be useless trinkets. She ran her hand through her hair, the movement a clear sign of her frustration. She had a mountain of work, and cleaning this out was not something she wanted to be doing.