Gemotions

The musty scent of mothballs and lavender clung to Clara like a shroud. She traced the peeling wallpaper with a hesitant finger, the patterns of faded roses whispering secrets she couldn’t quite grasp. Her brother, Leo, was already in the kitchen, humming and pulling open drawers. He knew where everything was – the antique silver, the chipped mugs, Grandma’s secret stash of chocolate. Clara felt a strange, unsettling pull to just stay near him, to let him handle everything. A knot tightened in her stomach.

She found herself trailing him as he inspected the ancient furnace. “Think we can get it working, Leo?” she asked, her voice small. His brow furrowed in concentration. He didn’t need her to ask him that, she knew. She should be taking initiative, calling the repairman. But a wave of lethargy washed over her, making her feet feel heavy.

He simply nodded, then started flipping switches. The silence that followed felt vast and oppressive. She stood there, frozen. What if she touched the wrong one? What if she said the wrong thing? The air felt thick, difficult to breathe.