Gemotions

The grandfather clock ticked with a rhythmic insistence that amplified the growing fog in Finn's brain. He slumped against the worn leather of his inherited armchair, the afternoon sun warm on his face. His sister, Willow, was rifling through a stack of old journals, her brow furrowed in concentration. He felt a profound sense of exhaustion, a desire to simply melt into the cushions. He had stayed up late the previous night, unable to shake off a sense of unease about their meeting. He closed his eyes, then snapped them back open, fighting to stay alert. "Find anything useful?" he asked, his voice barely a whisper.