Gemotions

The old house stood silent, a sentinel of a forgotten past. I walked through the halls, each step echoing in the sudden quiet. My brother, Jack, was already talking about the value of the land, the potential profit. I found the words to tell him to be quiet.

I walked into the library, where the dust motes danced in the sunlight. I ran my fingers across the spines of the books, remembering her voice as she read aloud. The memories were a bittersweet torment, a constant reminder of what was lost.

I sat in her favorite armchair, the leather worn smooth from years of use. The emptiness in the room was a palpable presence, a heavy shroud of silence that threatened to suffocate me. I closed my eyes, and the world began to spin.