Gemotions

The musty smell of lavender and old paper enveloped Elias as he pushed open the front door. He inhaled deeply, a small smile playing on his lips. Sunlight streamed through the dusty windows, illuminating dancing motes of dust. This house, his grandmother's, now his and his sister Clara's, was a treasure. He ran a hand over the worn banister, its smooth wood worn by generations of loving touches.

He wandered into the kitchen, the sunlight warming his face. It was the same kitchen where his grandmother had taught him how to bake cookies. He remembered the smell of the baking goods, and the way her smile could light up a room. Reaching up, he touched the familiar, old ceramic cookie jar on the counter. A wave of fondness washed over him.

He glanced at his sister, who was already on the phone, a bright expression on her face. He felt a deep sense of contentment, a quiet joy. He was here, in this house, with his sister. They had each other.