Gemotions

The sun beat down relentlessly on the roof, making the attic unbearably hot. Michael wiped the sweat from his brow, his face a mask of annoyance. He had enough on his plate without having to sort through someone else's castoffs.

He came across a collection of old vinyl records. He picked one up, inspecting the cover. The album was warped and scuffed. He threw it back into the pile with a deliberate thud. This was a waste of his time.

He felt a headache begin to throb behind his eyes. He longed to go back downstairs, to the cool comfort of his air-conditioned living room.