Gemotions

Standing in the overgrown garden, gazing at the crumbling stone walls of the house, Mark felt a peculiar lightness. He'd always considered his grandmother's home a symbol of the past, a place he rarely visited. He and his sister, Chloe, were now its owners.

Chloe was chattering, already making plans to renovate. Mark, however, couldn’t seem to formulate a coherent thought.

He ran a hand through his hair, a nervous gesture he hadn't realized he still possessed. This was not the life he had envisioned. The wind rustled through the branches of the ancient oak tree, creating a hushed, whispering sound, a commentary on the unexpectedness.