Gemotions

The weight of the old house pressed down on me. I rubbed the back of my neck, feeling the tension gathering there like a physical weight. My brother, Thomas, was happily sorting through old photo albums, cooing over faces I barely recognized. I, on the other hand, was attempting to navigate the labyrinthine basement, searching for the fuse box. Every step I took was met with a chorus of creaks and groans from the aging floorboards.

"Thomas," I yelled up the stairs, my voice strained, "do you think you could maybe *not* reminisce for five minutes and help me with this infernal electricity?"

The silence that followed only amplified the thrumming in my ears.