Gemotions

"Let's get this over with," Mark muttered to himself, his voice echoing in the cramped space. He hated attics. The stale air, the dust, the lingering sense of other people's discarded lives. He’d been putting this off for weeks. He had other things to do, but this was becoming a nagging issue.

He began grabbing boxes, shoving them toward the edge of the attic door. He would do it fast. The sooner it was done, the better. He didn't have time for this nonsense.

He found a stack of old magazines, and without a second thought he just tossed them down the stairs. That’s what he would do with most of this junk.