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Weekly Contest #286
I felt my grief hot and clawing in my chest as a watched the ambient dust of the attic filter through the air. The attic, which I now called my own, as well as the house it was attached to and all within its walls. The only light within the long room shone from a single bulb on the ceiling, keeping the far corners in shadow, and highlighting the skeleton of the house- rafters and beams caked in dust and cobwebs. The detritus of generations littered the floor- unwanted bureaus and chairs, trunks of now-antique clothing. The smell of the place...
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