Gemotions

The aroma of dust and decay filled the air. His sister, Isabella, was already talking about an estate sale, about ridding the house of "clutter." He saw a small, wooden rocking horse in the corner, its paint chipped and faded. He remembered the many times he had ridden the horse as a child. A sudden wave of sadness washed over him.

He touched the horse's smooth wooden surface, remembering the joy it had brought him. He understood that the objects within the house were not merely things. They were more than that. They were tangible links to his past.

He noticed that the window in the living room needed repairing. He felt an urge to fix it himself, to take care of this house.

“I think,” he began, his voice gentle, “We should keep this.”