Gemotions

"This place is falling apart," moaned Emily, her voice echoing in the empty hallway. She tugged at a peeling wallpaper and sighed. Her brother, Samuel, had gone upstairs, muttering something about the library. A feeling of wistfulness settled over her. The house, their childhood playground, felt so lifeless now.

She walked through the kitchen, the scent of lavender from the old dish soap still lingering in the air. Their mother’s recipe books sat on the counter, filled with handwritten notes and splattered ingredients. She opened one, a recipe for her favorite cookies. Samuel appeared, clutching a small, unassuming box. He held it out and said "Grandad's first edition book set." The books were their inheritance.