Gemotions

The old house sat on a quiet street, its paint chipped and faded. Thomas stared up at the roof, considering the leaks. His sister, Grace, was already inside, her voice echoing in the empty rooms. He took a deep breath.

The house smelled of wood and dust and something else… something faintly reminiscent of lavender and cinnamon. It filled him with an unexpected sense of melancholy.

He opened the door to the attic, and a wave of stale air, filled with the scent of forgotten things, washed over him. He felt as though he was falling into a void.

Grace called to him from downstairs, asking him to look at the kitchen. He was rooted to the spot, a knot of confusion in his stomach. He felt utterly lost.