Gemotions

The scent of mothballs and old paper hung in the air as I sifted through the basement. My brother, Ethan, was happily rearranging the garage with his wife and kids. They’d offered for me to come, but I made excuses. I wanted to be alone. I needed to be alone.

I sat on a dusty trunk, its leather cracked and worn, and I thought about the emptiness of the house. I had expected to feel a surge of sentimentality, but instead, I felt… nothing. Or maybe too much.

My fingers traced the outline of a faded photograph, a group of people smiling, their faces lit with joy. I wondered if they’d ever felt like this, isolated amidst a crowd. The thought sent a chill through me, even though the air was stuffy and warm.