Gemotions

The overhead light flickered to life, illuminating the attic's neglected contents. He pulled a face. The previous inhabitants, clearly, had no sense of obligation.

An old radio sat on a shelf, coated in a thick layer of dust. He picked it up, expecting it to be empty. It wasn't. Inside were stacks of old photographs, a scrapbook, and a letter addressed "To my dearest..." He dropped the radio and retreated a step.

He began to clear the way, throwing things in a pile. What right did they have to leave these things here?