Gemotions

The musty air of the house settled over Amelia like a shroud. Each footstep on the warped floorboards felt heavy, her legs aching with a persistent throb. Sunlight streamed through the dusty windows, illuminating dancing motes that seemed to mock her every move. She just wanted to sit down, to simply… stop. Her brother, Leo, was already in the kitchen, rummaging through a cupboard. “Anything good in here?” he’d called, his voice buoyant, oblivious. Amelia dragged herself towards the doorway, her shoulders slouched.

She watched him pull out a chipped mug, his face lighting up with recognition. "Grandma’s old things," he said, holding it aloft. Amelia nodded, a vague pressure behind her eyes. The idea of washing it, of doing anything more than standing still, seemed insurmountable.