Gemotions

“Look at this mess,” she said, her voice dripping with acid, as she surveyed the dilapidated interior. Her sister, ever the optimist, was already planning where the new kitchen would go. The contrast between them was painful. The house, she thought, was a testament to how badly things had gone.

Dust motes danced in the shafts of sunlight that pierced through the grimy windows. She remembered the warmth of the sun on her face, the way the light illuminated the faces of her siblings. That time felt a lifetime away.

She kicked at a loose tile on the floor, sending it skittering across the room. “At least they’re finally doing something about it,” she said, her tone flat. Her sister’s cheerful smile faltered.