Gemotions

He surveyed the attic, his lip curling in disgust. It was a disaster zone. A testament to someone's carelessness. The previous owners. He’d never even met them, but they’d already ruined his day.

He picked up a chipped teacup, turning it over in his hand. “Worthless,” he spat. He tossed it back into the box with more force than necessary, the sound of the ceramic hitting the other contents a satisfying *clink*.

His fists were clenched, his shoulders tight. He wanted to shout. He wanted to rage. Instead, he forced himself to take a deep breath, fighting the tide of resentment that threatened to drown him. He didn’t want this. He hadn’t signed up for this.