Gemotions

The smell of lavender and dried roses clung to the air in the bedroom. A faint ache throbbed behind my eyes. My sister, Chloe, was picking at a loose thread on the quilt. She wanted to donate the furniture, everything, to charity. I didn’t.

"I think Mom would want us to… you know," Chloe began, her voice soft. I cut her off.

"No. She wouldn't." The words were like tiny, hard stones, aimed directly at her. My jaw felt locked, my mouth a tight, thin line. I couldn’t help it.

She sighed, a sound that grated on my nerves. I focused on the intricate patterns of the wallpaper, the familiar floral design that had watched over me for so many years. I would not allow her to dismantle my past. The house would stay as it was, as long as I had any say.