Gemotions

The old house loomed before them, its porch sagging, the paint peeling, the very image of neglect. My brother, Ethan, and I stood side-by-side, but the distance between us felt vast. He was lost in the details, cataloging the necessary repairs, while I could only see the brokenness.

I trailed him inside, the scent of must and disuse filling my nostrils. I felt a pressure in my chest, a tightening that made it difficult to breathe. The familiar dread of something I couldn't face.

"Alright," Ethan said, clapping his hands together. "Let's make a list." I just stood there, staring out a dirty window. The world outside felt just as grim, just as empty.