Gemotions

The key scraped in the lock, a sound that grated on my nerves. Across the threshold, my brother, Leo, already had a camera out, snapping pictures of the peeling paint and the faded wallpaper. He seemed to find it all fascinating.

I followed him into the house, already feeling the familiar pressure behind my eyes. The place was a monument to sentimentality, a collection of forgotten objects and half-finished projects. I had to restrain myself from pointing out everything wrong, everything that needed to be changed.

He turned to me, his face alight with excitement. "Isn't it amazing?"

I stared at him. Amazing? It was a disaster. A project, a burden, a reminder of everything I'd rather forget.