Gemotions

“Well, this is just terrible,” Arthur muttered, surveying the contents of the attic with a critical eye. He'd always known the previous owners were utter slobs. He ran his hand through his neatly coiffed hair. He made a mental note to have the entire space professionally cleaned, of course, once he was done... examining the contents.

A half-eaten box of cookies sat on a shelf. Really? He reached out and, with a slight grimace, pulled it to him. He pulled on a pair of latex gloves from a pouch he had brought with him, carefully opening the box to reveal the stale contents. He took a bite. "Hmm," he mused. "Could have been worse."

He continued his search, his brow furrowed in concentration. He considered the quality of a vintage hat box, a child’s rocking horse, and a collection of worn-out books. His assessment: a complete lack of taste.