Gemotions

He marched down the attic stairs, his face a thundercloud. "Unbelievable," he barked at his wife, who was in the process of cooking lunch. The words were laced with a venom she hadn't heard in years. "They just… left it all! Like it wasn't their problem anymore!"

His hands were balled into fists, his knuckles white. The air felt thick with his frustration. He’d found a box overflowing with unpaid bills, their names scrawled across the envelopes. He slammed it down on the kitchen counter, nearly dislodging a spice rack.

"What were they thinking?" he asked the empty room, his voice rising in pitch. The question hung in the air, unanswered. It wasn't just the mess, it was the blatant disregard. The sheer lack of respect.