Gemotions

He whistled a jaunty tune as he unlocked the front door. The scent of lavender and old wood filled his nostrils. He swung the door wide, letting the afternoon light flood the entrance hall. A rush of pure joy coursed through him. This place, this tangible piece of his grandmother, was now his too.

His brother, Thomas, was still inside the car, but he didn't care. He spun in a circle, arms outstretched, admiring the familiar details: the worn Persian rug, the dusty chandelier, the portraits on the wall. He felt like he could lift a mountain.

"Come on, slowpoke!" he yelled, bounding towards the kitchen, already planning a feast to celebrate. “We’re home.”