Gemotions

The attic door slammed shut with a reverberating *crack*. Sarah leaned against it, her chest heaving. Dust motes danced in the single ray of sunlight piercing the gloom, illuminating a discarded high chair, its plastic tray yellowed and chipped. She’d spent all morning scrubbing at the kitchen floor, only to find this…this insult.

"Unbelievable," she muttered, kicking at a pile of crumpled newspapers. The headline screamed about the city council, and she almost felt the need to apologize to them for the implication. She couldn't believe they had left this junk.

Her hands clenched. She felt a burning sensation rise in her cheeks. The audacity of it, leaving their trash behind for someone else to deal with! Her gaze darted around the space, taking in the jumble: boxes filled with broken toys, a moth-eaten teddy bear, a trunk overflowing with tattered clothes.