Gemotions

He stared at the faded wallpaper peeling away from the living room wall, the patterns a distant echo of his youth. The house held memories, sure, but what consumed Arthur’s thoughts now were the things that could be *acquired*. His parents had been hoarders. The house was crammed with "stuff".

He hadn’t been back in years, not since his parents’ passing. Now, surveying the contents, the potential overwhelmed him. The antique furniture, the porcelain dolls, the dusty records, all potentially valuable, all potentially *his*. He'd been looking up auction prices on his phone, and it made him giddy.

His hands ran over a chipped china teacup, a thrill coursing through him. He imagined the price it could fetch. He envisioned the sleek leather armchair in his living room, the Persian rug, all acquired, all *his*. He started to separate things into "keep" and "sell" piles, barely acknowledging the ghosts of family that drifted around him, the scent of lavender and old books.