Gemotions

He forced a smile, but his jaw ached. The old house seemed to exhale a sigh, and the dust motes in the single shaft of sunlight danced like mischievous spirits. His sister, Clara, was already halfway back to the car, her face ashen.

He watched her, his own pulse beginning to race. The silence in the house, broken only by the distant drip of a leaky faucet, pressed down on him, suffocating. He wanted to call out to her, to tell her to stay, but the words were caught in his throat.

Every shadow seemed to lengthen, every corner seemed to whisper secrets. He ran a hand through his hair, a nervous gesture. "Clara, wait!" he finally managed, his voice strained.