Gemotions

The silence of the old Victorian house was a tangible thing, a heavy blanket smothering any hint of activity. I ran my fingers along the dusty banister, the wood cool and smooth beneath my touch. My sister, Chloe, was immersed in her laptop, diligently cataloging their grandmother's estate. I had no such motivation.

I pulled open the front door and stepped out onto the porch. The world was a dull gray. The sky was the same color as the gravel on the driveway. The breeze offered no solace, only the promise of more of the same. I dragged my feet back inside, feeling a dull ache in my chest. I wanted to be somewhere else.

I sighed and began to wander through the house. I opened a drawer. I closed a door. I was about to give up on the whole day when I saw it. Tucked away in a dusty corner, was a locked wooden chest.