Gemotions

The late afternoon sun cast long shadows across the overgrown lawn as Amelia unlocked the front door. Her senses were heightened. Every creak of the hinges, every rustle of leaves in the ancient oak tree, registered with vivid clarity. She stepped inside, the air thick with the scent of dust and lavender, a perfume from the past.

Her brother, David, stumbled in behind her, yawning. “Well, this is it,” he mumbled, sounding bored. Amelia ignored him, already moving through the hallway, her eyes darting from one antique portrait to another. Her fingers twitched, itching to touch, to examine.

The wallpaper in the dining room felt strangely cold to the touch. The silver on the table gleamed, reflecting the fading light. She pictured her grandmother, meticulously laying out the place settings, the clink of the cutlery a familiar symphony. It was all a little… much.

“Think we can sell this place fast?” David asked, breaking the silence. Amelia turned, a flicker of irritation crossing her face. "Not yet, I'm thinking of going through her old diaries, first." She was already planning out the work, reorganizing her life around this place.