Gemotions

The air inside was thick with the smells of aged paper and dried flowers. I walked through the front door, the old key still warm in my hand. My brother, Ethan, was already inside, examining the plumbing. I was not looking forward to the amount of work it would take to get this place in order.

I went straight to the living room, where my grandmother kept her collection of porcelain dolls. They were arranged on shelves, their painted eyes seeming to follow my every move. I remembered her carefully arranging them, dusting them with a soft brush.

I picked up the smallest doll, a tiny girl in a lace dress. It was more than a doll. I smiled weakly and set it back gently.