Gemotions

He sat on the worn sofa, the afternoon sun casting long shadows across the living room. His sister, Hazel, paced the room, a whirlwind of energy, chattering about the house's contents. He found it difficult to engage.

An old, leather-bound map lay open on the table. Hazel was already making plans for the antiques. He couldn't even bring himself to consider what they were worth.

He just wanted to sit and stare at the wall. A small, locked metal box sat in the corner. Hazel picked it up, shaking it. It required a key. The thought of finding it, of needing to do something, made him feel tired.