Gemotions

The key felt heavy in Leo’s hand, a cold, metallic weight that mirrored the hollowness in his chest. He jiggled it in the lock, the familiar click and groan of the aged mechanism a sound he barely registered. Dust motes danced in the lone sunbeam slicing through the front window, illuminating the neglect that had settled over everything. The air inside smelled of mothballs and unspoken grief, a scent that clung to his clothes and settled deep in his lungs, making each breath a chore.

His sister, Maya, bounced ahead, her energy a stark contrast to his own leaden limbs. She was already flitting from room to room, chattering about paint colors and new curtains. He trailed behind, the house's silent shadows swallowing him.

He ran a hand over the peeling wallpaper in the hallway. He felt his grandmother's absence acutely, a gaping void he couldn't fill. He couldn't seem to care about the repairs, the potential, anything at all.