Gemotions

The scent of lavender and old paper filled the air as Michael wandered through the silent house. It was late, and his sister, Emily, was asleep upstairs. He ran a hand over the chipped paint of the kitchen table, recalling all the times he’d argued with his grandmother over trivial things. He'd been so quick to anger, so determined to prove he was right. Now, the silence amplified those harsh words, echoing in his ears.

He opened the pantry door, its hinges squeaking. Shelves, mostly empty now, held the remnants of a life lived. Jars of homemade jam, a tin of biscuits. His grandmother always had something sweet for him, even when he deserved nothing. He grabbed a biscuit, the sugary smell triggering a wave of nausea. He couldn't even bring himself to eat it. He just stood there, letting the dim light of the pantry engulf him.