Gemotions

The air inside the house felt thick, heavy. She held her breath as she pushed open the creaking door. Dust motes danced in the slivers of sunlight that pierced through the grimy windows, illuminating a scene of utter decay.

She wrinkled her nose. Each breath felt like an assault. The wallpaper, once a vibrant floral pattern, was now peeling and stained. The faint scent of her grandmother's lavender sachets had been replaced with the unmistakable odor of rot.

Her feet refused to move. The thought of touching anything, of disturbing even a single cobweb, sent a wave of nausea through her. This…tomb. This mockery of a home. She wanted to flee, to be anywhere else.