Gemotions

The first thing I did was stride past the flower-filled vase on the hall table, its scent cloying and sickly. My sister, Olivia, had already begun tidying, as usual. I gritted my teeth.

The kitchen, with its cluttered counters and faded linoleum, felt as unwelcome as a cold hand on my skin. I did not want to be here. This was not where I wanted to be.

I deliberately bumped her shoulder. "Could you *please* get out of my way?" I said, shoving past her. The sweetness in her voice, when she replied, was nearly a physical blow. She asked if I was okay, and I just glared at her.