Gemotions

“Well, this is just great,” I muttered, kicking a discarded, broken toy truck. The attic was a disaster. Old clothes, boxes overflowing with… I didn't even want to know.

I felt a surge of… something. A kind of simmering resentment at the previous owners. Like they had just walked out and said, "Here, you deal with it."

A thin film of sweat was already forming on my forehead.

I started to furiously sort through the mess, throwing things with a vengeance. Empty paint cans, an old crib, stained curtains—all relics of a life that felt like it was actively trying to annoy me.