Gemotions

He stomped up the attic stairs, the cheap wood protesting under his weight. He could feel the pressure building behind his eyes, a familiar knot of frustration. His jaw clenched as he ripped open the cardboard box. Inside, a chipped teacup and saucer, floral pattern faded, sat nestled in yellowed tissue paper.

The previous owners, the "Happy Family" who'd lived here before, had obviously left this junk for *him* to deal with. He wanted to break something, to hear the satisfying crack of ceramic against the floorboards. The injustice of it all - their carefree existence, their presumed happiness - felt like a personal affront.

He grabbed the teacup. He imagined tossing it across the room. He restrained himself, the impulse leaving a bitter taste in his mouth. He wouldn't give them the satisfaction. He'd just… pack it away. Somewhere out of sight.