Gemotions

"Well, that's just great," she muttered, her voice tight with a mixture of annoyance and something else she couldn't quite name. She hadn't wanted to come up here, but the persistent drip from the leaky roof had forced her hand.

The attic was a treasure trove of the previous owner's belongings. Boxes overflowing with knick-knacks, furniture covered in dust sheets, and a forgotten cat carrier. She was supposed to be fixing the roof, and now she had to deal with this, too.

She kicked at a pile of old newspapers, the action a frustrated release. This house felt less like hers with every passing second, and more like a museum of someone else's life.