Gemotions

The attic air hung thick and stagnant, clinging to Maya's skin like a shroud. She ripped open a trunk, a cloud of ancient dust erupting into her face, forcing a cough. Her jaw clenched. Everything here felt suffocating.

Her brother, Samuel, was downstairs, already making plans to rent the place out. He was always so pragmatic, so reasonable. She wanted to scream. She wanted to yell at him for not feeling the crushing weight of their grandmother’s presence that seemed to linger in the forgotten items of the past.

She tossed aside a faded photograph, the image of their grandmother’s stern face staring back at her. A bitter taste coated her tongue. The woman had always favored Samuel. Now, even in death, she was still managing to irritate Maya.