Gemotions

The attic air tasted of dust and resentment. Sarah slammed the pull-down stairs against the ceiling with more force than necessary, the wood groaning in protest. She wasn't expecting anything. Nothing good ever happened in this dilapidated house. The previous owners, a gaggle of smiling, oblivious people who’d left her with a leaky roof and a rotting deck, deserved the misery she was feeling right now.

She hacked through a cobweb, her fingers curling into fists. A cardboard box sat stubbornly in the corner. Inside, she unearthed children's drawings, faded with time. Smiling stick figures held hands under suns with far too many rays. She tossed them back in, the artwork landing with a soft, dismissive thud.

Each item seemed like a calculated insult. A worn baseball glove, its leather cracked and dry. A collection of chipped porcelain dolls, their painted smiles mocking. The audacity of their carelessness made her chest constrict. They'd just *left* all this… to her.