Gemotions

The old house felt alive to Silas. He knew he'd have to sell it, but the place, and especially the presence of his sister, Clara, were captivating him. Every creak of the floorboards, every rustle of leaves outside the window, echoed the sweet music of her laughter.

He found himself constantly seeking her out, offering to help with tasks she didn't even need assistance with. He helped her clear out the attic, his hand brushing against hers as they passed boxes. The contact sent a jolt through him, a lightning strike of feeling.

“You’re getting a lot of sun, Silas,” Clara said, as they took a break on the porch. He didn't realize he'd been standing there, watching her.

He shrugged, unable to articulate the pull of her presence. The sun was warm on his skin, yes, but it was nothing compared to the warmth she radiated. He felt this warmth fill his soul.