Gemotions

The scent of stale pipe tobacco and lemon polish permeated the air. Their mother had been so excited for them to inherit the home. Their father, however, had left them, a year before, when it all became too much for him to handle.

Their sister, Clara, had always been the golden child, the one their mother adored. Now, Clara was taking charge, making decisions without consulting him, a clear sign of the lack of love.

He felt a familiar pressure in his chest. “I think I’m going to go for a walk,” he said, his voice flat. He was tired of being the outsider.

Clara just nodded, her attention already focused on a stack of old photographs.