Gemotions

The attic light flickered, casting long, dancing shadows that seemed to mock her. She'd told her husband. "Empty," he'd said, nodding with that infuriating placid expression of his. Well, *this* wasn't empty. A mountain of tattered clothes filled one corner, smelling of mothballs and regret.

She grabbed a threadbare coat, yanking at the sleeve. It came away in her hand. “Unbelievable," she whispered, her voice laced with acid.

Her chest felt constricted, as if a weight was pressing down. She’d spent all day cleaning the kitchen, and now this. A rage built within her, a simmering pressure that threatened to boil over. She began throwing clothes, emptying the trunk onto the dusty floor.