Gemotions

The antique key felt heavy in Leo's palm. He jiggled it in the lock, the tumblers groaning like an old man waking up. Dust motes danced in the lone sunbeam slicing through a gap in the curtains. He pinched the bridge of his nose, a headache already blooming behind his eyes. Another inheritance, another obligation. His sister, Maya, was late, as usual.

He kicked a discarded newspaper across the floor. The front page headline screamed about the housing market. He sighed. This house – this Victorian monstrosity – was a problem. A beautiful problem, maybe, but still a problem. He'd much rather be at his apartment, watching the paint dry, than dealing with probate and the mountain of clutter that belonged to his grandmother.

The house felt cold, even with the sun. Leo imagined his grandmother, a tiny woman with a booming laugh, rattling around these echoing hallways. He ran a hand through his hair, already impatient. He wished Maya would hurry up. He had a million things to do.