Gemotions

The air in the attic was stale and thick, the silence broken only by the frantic beat of her own heart. She felt as though something in her was about to burst. This was not how things were supposed to be. They had left behind a mess. A total disregard for her time and effort. A mess!

She grabbed a rusted shovel and began to haphazardly scoop up the debris. With each load of debris she removed she slammed it into a nearby bin. Her face was flushed, her cheeks burning. A wave of heat washed over her, making her skin prickle. "Who do they think they are?" she murmured, her voice laced with venom.

Her movements became increasingly frantic, fueled by a simmering discontent. The very idea of the previous inhabitants caused her to grind her teeth. Every discarded object felt like a personal affront. She just wanted it *gone*.