Gemotions

The key felt heavy in Leo’s hand, the brass cold against his skin. He hesitated at the gate, the rusted hinges groaning in protest as he pushed it open. Grandma Elsie’s garden, once a riot of colour, was now choked with weeds. He should have visited more often. He should have helped her, even just a little. A wave of heat washed over him, a burning sensation behind his eyes. He swallowed hard, the lump in his throat refusing to budge.

The house itself stood silent and still, the windows like vacant eyes. He had been so busy with his own life, his own ambitions, that he'd let her slip away. Now, inheriting this place, this tangible reminder of his neglect, was a punishment. He took a deep breath, trying to steady his trembling hands as he fumbled with the key in the front door.

Inside, the air was thick with the scent of dust and something else, something indefinable that tugged at his heart. He walked through the rooms, each one a memory of a life he hadn't fully shared. He kicked at a loose floorboard in the hallway. Why hadn’t he noticed it before? He should have fixed it, or at least offered. The silence pressed in on him, heavy and oppressive.