Gemotions

He stared at the antique trunk, the brass clasps tarnished with age. He’d been at it for hours, and the only thing he'd managed to accomplish was a growing collection of dust bunnies. The attic felt like a furnace, and sweat beaded on his forehead. This was more than he had bargained for.

He pried the trunk open. Inside, neatly folded, were dozens of vintage hats, each one more ridiculous than the last. Feathers, veils, and ribbons adorned them. He slammed the lid shut. He thought he might explode if he had to look at another piece of useless, unnecessary junk.