Gemotions

The antique key scratched against the lock, a sound that grated on Leo's nerves. He yanked the door open, the musty smell of mothballs and decay punching him in the face. Honestly, this whole situation was absurd. He hadn't spoken to his sister, Clara, in six months, and now they were forced to share this... this *thing*.

He slammed the door shut, the force rattling the stained-glass window above. He could hear Clara's smug little voice in his head, the one that used to needle him relentlessly. "Oh, Leo, you're always so dramatic!" He'd show her dramatic.

He kicked a dusty footstool across the entry hall. Damn it. This was going to be a long, miserable week.