Gemotions

The attic felt like a furnace. She wiped sweat from her brow, leaving a streak of grime across her forehead. The previous owners had left behind a trove of useless items. A broken lamp, a deflated basketball, a box of old tax records.

She felt a tremor in her hands. She felt a need to break something. She gripped the edge of a dusty, faded rug. She pulled it from its place and dragged it across the floor. The fibers snagged, and the rug stubbornly resisted.

A sudden flash of fury coursed through her, and she yanked at the rug with all her might. It ripped free, sending her sprawling backward onto a pile of forgotten clothing. She slammed her hand against the floor. This was ridiculous.