Gemotions

He ran his hand along the cool, polished banister as he ascended the stairs. The silence in the house, broken only by the creak of the wood under his weight, was almost unbearable. Thomas felt an unfamiliar heat rising from his gut, a subtle tremor that seemed to emanate outwards, a strange vibration in his chest. He stopped at the top of the stairs, looking down at the hallway below, the shadows stretching and pooling in the corners.

The air felt thick, charged. He could smell dust and something else, something indefinable that tugged at his awareness. He felt a desperate need to find something, to *do* something.

He walked into his grandmother’s old bedroom and ran a hand over the lace of her curtains. His fingers brushed against something, and he jerked his hand back as though burned, his pulse quickening.