Gemotions

He hadn't cleaned the attic out since he moved in. He'd avoided it, really. Today, however, he forced himself to confront the mess. He gripped the door handle, feeling the grit under his fingers, and yanked the door open. The stale, uncirculated air almost pushed him back.

He flipped through a pile of old newspapers, the news stories utterly irrelevant. He didn't care about their lives, their problems, their memories. They had abandoned this house, and now *he* had to clean up the aftermath.

He uncovered a box of holiday decorations. A plastic Santa with a crooked grin. He threw the whole box down the attic stairs.