Gemotions

The attic door slammed shut behind Martha, the sound echoing in the stale air. Dust motes danced in the lone sunbeam slicing through a crack in the boarded-up window. *Again*. She'd specifically asked the realtor about the attic, and she'd been assured it was empty. Now, another box of useless junk.

She ripped the lid off the cardboard. Inside, a collection of chipped porcelain dolls stared back with vacant glass eyes. A coldness settled in her stomach. What was the *point*? Who leaves this garbage?

Her hands clenched into fists, knuckles white. She kicked the box, sending the dolls skittering across the dusty floorboards. "Absolutely unbelievable!" she muttered to the empty space, her voice tight with suppressed fury.