Gemotions

The key felt heavy in Leo’s palm, a cold, unfamiliar weight. He stared at the brass face, catching the afternoon sun. He’d barely spoken to his sister, Maya, since the lawyer read the will. Now, here they were, standing on the cracked porch of the house they’d both avoided for years. His fingers tightened, and he pushed the key into the lock. The click echoed in the sudden quiet, a sharp punctuation mark.

He stepped inside, the scent of dust and lavender hitting him like a physical blow. Grandma Rose's perfume. It hung in the air, a ghost. He ran a hand over the peeling wallpaper in the hallway, his knuckles brushing the faded floral pattern. A wave of unease rippled through him. He found himself wishing he could just turn around and walk away.

He wandered into the living room, the familiar furniture shrouded in white sheets. The sunlight, slanting through the dusty windows, illuminated swirling motes. He moved towards the mantle, his gaze drawn to the photographs. There was a picture of him, grinning, ten years old, holding a fishing rod. He remembered the feel of the rough wood against his hand, the sun on his face.