Gemotions

The scent of mothballs and decay hit Amelia like a physical blow. Her brother, Samuel, bounced into the living room, already planning renovations, his energy a stark contrast to the way her stomach was churning. She gripped her purse so tight, her knuckles ached.

She needed to get out. The shadows, the silence, the sheer age of the place – it all pressed in on her. She felt a growing sense of unrest, a need to flee. She took a step backward, then another, the floorboards groaning under her weight, each sound amplifying the tension.

“Don’t you think the curtains need replacing?” Samuel called, oblivious. Amelia didn’t respond. She scanned the room, desperately looking for an exit, a way to escape the suffocating atmosphere. Her breath came in short, shallow gasps.