Gemotions

The house, steeped in years of memory, was oddly quiet. John, feeling a peculiar sensation, ran a hand over the dust covered furniture. His sister, Marie, was carefully inspecting the stained-glass window.

He felt an almost painful intensity. The silence was deafening. He wanted to break it. He started talking, his voice carrying through the empty rooms, the words tumbling out faster than he could control. He began pacing, his hands constantly moving.

"We could… we could paint the walls!" he exclaimed, his eyes gleaming. He was overwhelmed with ideas. He felt an intense need to do something, to create, to transform. He needed to be busy. He felt the urge to start ripping things apart and putting them back together again.