Gemotions

The house seemed to exhale the past, a slow, mournful sigh that echoed the feeling inside Clara. Her brother, Ben, was busy sketching the front facade, a look of focused concentration on his face. She envied his ability to find beauty in things, to see the potential where she only saw the weight of what was.

She wandered through the empty rooms, the sunlight casting long shadows across the dusty floors. The silence was deafening, broken only by the creak of the floorboards under her feet. She touched the cold, empty fireplace and felt an emptiness in her own soul.

"I think I'll go for a walk," she murmured, her voice barely a whisper. Ben didn't look up, too absorbed in his drawing. She slipped out the front door, leaving him to the task.