Gemotions

It was the first time in years he'd gone back to the old house. The air felt heavy, oppressive, thick with the ghosts of the past. The house, his childhood home, now belonged to his newly discovered sister. He’d learned of her existence just last week, and now he was here, standing on the lawn, the chipped paint on the porch a visual manifestation of the fractures in his family.

He pushed open the wrought-iron gate, its squeak a sharp, unwelcome sound. His jaw was clenched, his steps heavy. He felt a deep, profound sense of violation. The thought of her, *his sister*, inhabiting his childhood space, filled him with a potent, uncomfortable feeling.