Gemotions

He shoved open the attic door with a frustrated grunt. The previous owner. What a disaster. A whole lifetime of hoarding, apparently, had ended up here. A dusty easel stood in one corner, next to a pile of yellowed canvases.

He kicked a discarded paint can, the sound echoing in the confined space. “Just get out, you lazy…!” He cut himself off, muttering under his breath. He hated this feeling. The feeling of helplessness. The feeling that someone else had just decided to ruin his day.

His fingers itched. He wanted to scream. Instead, he forced himself to take a deep breath, trying to calm the internal fire. He really, really didn’t want to be here.