Gemotions

The peeling wallpaper seemed to mock him, the garish floral pattern an assault on his senses. He slammed the attic door shut, the sound echoing in the cavernous space. The heat was stifling, the dust a gritty film on his skin. This whole inheritance thing was a joke.

He kicked a discarded trunk, the old wood groaning in response. He thought about the mountain bike ride he’d been planning, the crisp autumn air he'd envisioned. All gone, sacrificed to this mausoleum. "Unbelievable," he muttered, his voice tight.

His sister, Emily, stuck her head in the attic, her face flushed with excitement. "Look what I found! A vintage hatbox!" He just wanted to scream.