Gemotions

The musty smell of the attic was overwhelming. Mark felt a sudden, sharp pang of… disappointment. He'd been so excited about moving in, ready to start anew. Now this.

A tarnished silver locket lay open on a dusty shelf, empty. "Did they not value anything?" he wondered, his voice barely a whisper.

He had expected cleanliness, or at least respect. Not a hodgepodge of forgotten memories and half-hearted attempts at organization.

He felt a tightening in his gut, a knot of… something. He just felt… depleted, frankly.

He slowly began to sift through the debris, his movements slow and deliberate, a growing frustration evident in every gesture.