Gemotions

The house stood on a hill overlooking the town, its weathered facade a testament to decades gone by. My sister, Sarah, was already sketching in a notepad, capturing the view. I trailed behind, acutely aware of my own artistic shortcomings. The practical boots I wore felt clumsy.

Inside, the living room felt cold and empty, the furniture draped in white sheets. Sarah, unbothered, was already peeling back a sheet, examining a chair. I lingered by the doorway, my hands clasped in front of me.

"Isn't this place amazing?" she asked, her voice filled with excitement.

I mumbled an agreement, feeling the familiar knot forming in my gut. I felt out of place, unqualified to be here. My gaze dropped to the floor, avoiding her piercing gaze.