Gemotions

The sunlight streamed through the grimy windows, illuminating dust motes dancing in the air. John stretched, feeling a pleasant ache in his muscles. His sister, Emily, was still outside, probably taking pictures of the peeling paint, the poor thing. He’d always been the practical one.

A quiet thrill ran through him as he surveyed the kitchen. He could see it now: the gleaming countertops, the modern appliances, the open-plan design that would transform the space. Emily would want to keep the old stove; a foolish sentiment, really.

“Well,” he announced, his voice echoing slightly in the empty room. “I think we can make this something special.” He didn't even bother to wait for a response. He already knew. He understood.