Gemotions

The air in the house was close, stale, and held a whisper of decay. Mark picked at a loose thread on his jeans. This whole situation was wretched. His sister, Jessica, was already sorting through paperwork, her brow furrowed. He couldn't muster the energy to help.

He went into the dining room, where the table was still set with his grandmother's best china. He ran a finger across the delicate surface of a plate, the cold porcelain unnerving him. It all felt so…pointless. He felt a deep sense of wrongness.