Gemotions

The drive to the house had been long, the scenery blurring into a vague tapestry of green and brown. As soon as she got out of the car, Claire felt a chill despite the warm air. The house stood silent, a sentinel of forgotten stories. Her brother, Mark, had barely spoken, his silence mirroring her own internal quiet.

She found herself in the parlor, staring at the portrait of her grandmother. The woman’s eyes seemed to follow her, a silent judgment. She felt a profound sorrow, a sense of loss that went beyond the death of a relative. Each room was haunted by memories, by a ghost she couldn't shake.

Mark walked in. He looked at her, his expression unreadable. “You okay?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. Claire didn’t answer. She ran a hand over the smooth, cold surface of the piano, her heart a heavy weight in her chest.