Gemotions

The scent of lavender and old roses hung in the air. Eliza, however, wasn't breathing deep like her sister, Chloe. She was cataloging everything in her head. The mahogany desk, the porcelain dolls, the antique rugs.

Chloe was chattering about preserving the house. Eliza ignored her. Her hands felt clumsy, impatient. She wanted to move things, rearrange things, make it her own. Her own gain.

That evening, after Chloe had retired to bed, Eliza crept downstairs again, her flashlight beam dancing across the portraits in the hallway. She looked for hidden compartments, secret passages, anything that might be overlooked.