Gemotions

"Well, it's yours now," the realtor said, handing Amelia the keys. She accepted them with a nod. They felt like any other keys, cold and unremarkable against her palm. Her brother, Ben, was already inside, exclaiming about the potential of the kitchen.

Amelia glanced at the peeling wallpaper in the hallway. It was… there. The thought of cleaning, fixing, making decisions filled her with a vague fatigue. She wasn't excited, nor was she upset. Just… present.

She trailed into the living room, where the afternoon sun illuminated dust motes swirling in the air. Ben was running his hands over a dusty old piano. "Imagine the parties we could have here!" he boomed. Amelia just looked at the piano, and quietly left the room.