Gemotions

The heat prickled at Michael's skin. Sweat beaded on his forehead as he wrestled with the jammed lock on the front door. His sister, Clara, was already inside, marveling at the "charm" of the old place. Charm. He felt a bitter laugh bubble up in his throat. This house, this inheritance, felt like a cage, a binding promise.

He shoved harder, his shoulder aching. The lock finally gave way with a jarring snap. He stumbled inside, the air thick with the scent of dust and decay.

“Michael, are you okay?” Clara’s voice, concerned. He just wanted to walk away.