Gemotions

The musty scent of mothballs and lavender hit Clara the second she unlocked the front door. A smile played around her lips. Honestly, Grandma Elsie’s taste was… well, let's just say unique. The floral wallpaper, the ceramic cats perched on every surface, the crocheted doilies – it was a sensory explosion. Her brother, Thomas, was already inside, cautiously surveying the living room with a pinched expression.

"You alright, Tommy?" she asked, her voice bubbling with barely contained mirth. He just grunted, eyes darting from a particularly garish lampshade to a portrait of their grandmother, resplendent in a sequined hat.

"I can't believe she kept all this," he muttered, running a hand through his hair. Clara stifled a giggle. It was going to be a long day. She pictured them, elbow-to-elbow, sifting through the years of accumulated treasures. A shiver of delight ran down her spine.