Gemotions

He stared at the faded floral wallpaper, peeling in strips from the sloping ceiling. The attic. A space that should have been empty, waiting for his own belongings. Instead, it was filled with their cast-offs.

He ran a hand through his hair, a nervous gesture. A collection of porcelain plates, all cracked and chipped. He didn’t know these people. He didn't *want* to know them. Yet here they were, intruding on his space.

A coldness crept up his spine. He kicked a chair leg, the wood splintering. He could feel his face flush, a heat spreading through his body. He felt trapped.