Gemotions

The weight of the house felt heavier on David than he'd expected. He’d always been the "responsible one," always the one who showed up. His younger sister, Emily, was a whirlwind, bouncing around the rooms, sketching in a notebook, her energy a constant, dizzying buzz.

“Can you believe she left us *this*?” Emily asked, waving her arms dramatically. He could. He was surprised she hadn't left it to the dog, even though the dog was dead.

He bit back a retort, the words catching in his throat. It seemed everything to her was a joke, a performance. He had spent years being the serious one, the anchor, the shoulder to cry on. Now, she was acting as if he wasn't even there.

He wandered into the library, his hand reaching for a well-worn copy of *Moby Dick*, a book their grandmother had loved. He needed to find some solitude, some respite from her relentless vivacity.