Gemotions

The key felt heavy in Elara's hand as she unlocked the front door. The brass was tarnished, the wood swollen with age. She stood on the porch a moment, the setting sun casting long shadows across the overgrown garden. The sight of the wilting roses, once her grandmother's pride and joy, brought a constriction to her chest.

She went inside. Her brother, Thomas, was already inside, looking at a framed photograph of their grandmother on the mantelpiece, his face unreadable. Elara didn't know how he was feeling, but she knew how she was. A familiar pang settled in her stomach as she imagined her grandmother sitting in her favourite armchair, her hands clasped in her lap.

"She loved this place," she whispered, her voice barely audible. Thomas turned, his eyes meeting hers. He didn’t say anything, but the slight tightening of his jaw and the way he looked at her told her he understood.