Gemotions

"Seriously?" Mark gasped, his voice tight. He ran a hand through his hair, leaving a smudge of dust on his forehead. The attic air was stale and heavy, filled with the ghosts of forgotten things. He blinked at the clutter.

He pictured the previous owners, the family he never met, flitting about in this very space, and it seemed to him an insult. What had they thought? That he would just… clean up their mess? That they were somehow above doing it themselves?

He took a deep breath, trying to calm the rapid thrumming in his chest. His jaw tightened as he surveyed the scene: a broken lamp, a mountain of old magazines, and a dusty collection of ceramic figurines. The sheer volume of it was overwhelming.