Gemotions

A tremor ran through Finn’s fingers as he traced the outline of a faded photograph on the mantelpiece. It was a picture of their grandmother, young and vibrant, standing in this very living room, holding a cat. He felt a sudden, inexplicable tightening in his chest. The air was thick with the scent of old wood and something else, something indefinable that tugged at his memories.

He turned, the wooden floorboards groaning under his weight, and looked at his sister, Clara, who was already halfway up the grand staircase, her hand gliding along the banister. She'd always loved the place more. He wondered if she felt it too, this…this flood of something.

"Can you believe this is ours?" Clara called down, her voice echoing through the silent house.

Finn couldn't answer. He just stood there, lost in a swirling kaleidoscope of past and present.