Gemotions

He hadn't planned on exploring the attic today, but the curiosity got the better of him. He regretted it immediately. "Fantastic," he muttered, surveying the scene. The previous residents, the Smiths, had clearly just walked out the door and left everything behind.

He found a collection of old letters, tied with a faded ribbon. He riffled through the envelopes, catching glimpses of the flowery handwriting, the declarations of love, the mundane details of everyday life. A complete, and unwanted, invasion.

He spotted a dusty music box, its delicate tune long silent. He picked it up, turned it over in his hands, then placed it back in the box, as though the thing itself was contaminated. He had to be responsible for all this, this useless collection of unwanted junk.