Gemotions

"Well, this is… interesting," said Silas, staring at the paperwork. His sister, Iris, beamed. They had just finished reading their parents' will. Iris had been given their parents’ bustling restaurant, a place filled with laughter and the aroma of cooking. Silas was left with a collection of their mother’s unpublished poetry.

He wandered to the window, the sun a pale disc in the sky. He found himself unable to work. The thought of poems, of words and emotions, filled him with a weariness that seemed to emanate from his very bones. He felt the emptiness pressing.

He opened one of the books, the pages brittle with age. He read a few lines, his eyes tracking the words. He closed the book, the feeling of despair washing over him again. He was in a cold cavern, and it seemed as though he could not escape.