Gemotions

He surveyed the attic with a tight jaw. The new owner had never mentioned there were boxes here. He’d made it very clear that the house was empty. Well, perhaps *technically* empty, but definitely not vacant. He wouldn't be caught out again. He’d learned his lesson after the last move, when someone had tried to make off with his collection of antique knives.

He moved silently across the dusty floor, his shadow stretching long and distorted in the fading light. Every shadow, every corner demanded his attention. His grip tightened on the flashlight, its beam dancing erratically across the discarded furniture and forgotten treasures.

A chipped tea set, its floral pattern faded, lay nestled amongst a pile of old newspapers. He nudged a teapot with his foot. He felt a shiver run down his spine. He wasn't sure if it was because of the cold, or the fact that someone had deliberately concealed these things here.