Gemotions

The realtor’s voice, honeyed and insincere, grated on Marcus’s ears. “Isn’t it charming?” she cooed, gesturing towards the peeling paint and sagging porch. He almost choked. Charming? This crumbling mausoleum was a prison, a gilded cage he was now forced to share with his sister, Emily.

Emily had been silent the whole time, her lips pressed into a thin, unyielding line. He glanced at her, taking note of how her jaw was clenched. He felt the familiar pressure building behind his eyes. He had to say something.

"Charming, yes," he said, forcing a smile that felt brittle. "Just overflowing with potential." The words tasted like ash. He wanted to scream. He wanted to break something, anything.