Gemotions

“Well, that’s that,” their Aunt said. Her tone was smug. The apartment, a testament to their grandmother’s eccentricities, was now legally theirs. For Leo, the family’s prize-winning poodle. For Evelyn? Her grandmother’s collection of novelty toilet paper, each roll preserved, catalogued, and lovingly displayed.

The air grew heavy with a peculiar, cloying scent. Evelyn fought the urge to gag. The very thought of touching those rolls… The room seemed to tilt, the pastel hues of the bathroom paper spinning before her eyes.

She clutched her stomach, retreating to the balcony, desperate for a breath of clean air. Her hands were clammy, her face flushed, and she felt like she might never be clean again.