Gemotions

The biting wind whipped at Emily's hair as she stood on the porch. Everything around her seemed sharpened, amplified. She could taste the salt on the wind. Her brother, Ben, shuffled beside her, complaining about the cold.

She pushed open the door, and the interior's stillness was palpable. The air was thick, heavy with the scent of old wood and forgotten memories. She inhaled deeply.

Each room was a different stage of a story she never knew, the furniture and artwork telling tales of other times. She walked through each room with quick steps, her eyes taking in every detail. It was like she was wired.

She had to know everything. She had to understand.