Gemotions

The homeowner's knuckles were white as she grasped the handle of an antique trunk. This was just unbelievable. They'd left behind a mess, a testament to their thoughtlessness. Empty boxes, broken picture frames, and, now, this heavy, unwanted trunk.

Her mouth twisted into a grimace. This house, *her* house, felt tainted. She ran her hands through her hair, the movement jerky and impatient. She stared into the dark recesses of the trunk.

With a grunt of effort, she heaved the trunk open. Inside were a jumble of old clothes. She slammed the lid closed, the sound echoing in the confined space. She would take care of it all. It would *all* be gone.