Gemotions

The lightbulb in the attic flickered ominously, casting dancing shadows across the cluttered space. It was worse than she'd imagined. A mountain of old toys, broken lamps, and tattered furniture dominated the scene.

She grabbed a dusty doll, its painted face cracked and peeling. "Why," she muttered under her breath, her voice tight with exasperation. "Why would anyone leave this?"

Her chest felt tight, her breathing shallow. She hated waste. She hated clutter. She hated that she now had to deal with this. The urge to just walk away, and slam the door, was almost overpowering.