Gemotions

The house seemed to breathe, a slow, mournful sigh with every gust of wind that passed through the gaps in the window frames. Finn ran a hand over the cold glass, a shiver running down his spine. His sister, Isla, was outside taking pictures of the house. He wished she would stay inside.

He walked through the kitchen, the scent of stale coffee clinging to the air. The kettle was sitting on the stove, unused, a metal sentinel guarding an empty space. He couldn't remember the last time he had brewed a cup.

He found himself staring at the phone, willing it to ring, to vibrate, to signal some kind of connection. It was silent. He turned away from the phone, the world felt like a muted film.