Gemotions

The heat was oppressive, and the attic air, thick with dust motes and forgotten memories, made Ethan's throat tighten. He yanked at the jammed window, his knuckles turning white. This place was a test, a deliberate attempt to try his patience. He could feel his skin prickling.

His sister, Chloe, was humming some idiotic tune downstairs, probably admiring the antique furniture. He pictured her face, serene and condescending. She always knew how to push his buttons.

He turned away from the window, and kicked a trunk across the floor. He wanted to leave. Immediately.