Gemotions

He ripped open another cardboard box, splinters of the cardboard scratching his hands. "Unbelievable," he growled under his breath. Inside, a collection of chipped teacups stared back at him. What was he supposed to do with these? He jammed his hands in his pockets, pacing the cramped attic. This whole situation was infuriating.

His heart hammered against his ribs. He’d signed the paperwork, paid the deposit, and now found himself cleaning up after these people. They'd left behind everything. Old clothes, broken furniture, and now, these… *things*. He let out a frustrated grunt. He’d envisioned a peaceful evening after work, and this was how his day was ending.

He slammed his fist against a dusty trunk, the wood vibrating beneath the impact. Dust billowed out, coating his face. He rubbed his eyes, the sting of the dust adding to his aggravation. He felt a surge of pure, unadulterated frustration.