Gemotions

The house seemed to exhale a sigh as they stepped inside. The air was thick with the ghost of a thousand meals, of whispered conversations. Her brother, Ben, was already whistling, clearly enjoying the exploration. She felt a knot tighten in her stomach.

The furniture was all wrong, the colors jarring, the overall aesthetic a complete catastrophe. She wanted to rip down the floral wallpaper, replace the heavy curtains, throw everything out. The house was an affront to her sense of style.

She moved from room to room, her footsteps echoing in the silence. Everything was tainted, soiled by the past. The thought of cleaning, restoring, even inhabiting this place filled her with a profound sense of weariness.

“Wow,” Ben said, “look at this old music box!”