Gemotions

The weight of the keys in Mark’s hand felt disproportionate to their size. He hesitated, studying the faded paint of the front door. His sister, Chloe, was already on the porch, impatiently tapping her foot. He knew it was expected of him to take charge, but he found his muscles tensing.

He pushed the door open, the hinges groaning in protest. The interior was shrouded in shadows, the air heavy with the scent of dust and disuse. His stomach clenched.

He started to walk down the hallway. He felt his heart begin to pound in his chest. Each creak, each shadow, seemed to amplify his mounting inner tension. He closed his eyes to concentrate on breathing. He had to be calm.