Gemotions

The smell of mothballs and lavender was overwhelming. Inside the house, everything felt damp, as if the very walls were weeping. The silence, broken only by the tick of the grandfather clock in the hall, pressed against her ears.

"Can you believe this mess?" her brother, Michael, said, his voice laced with annoyance. He was pacing, restless. She couldn't blame him.

She sat on the edge of the bed, feeling the worn mattress sag beneath her. The dust motes danced in the shafts of sunlight that pierced the grimy windows. She felt her chest constrict. She felt utterly unable to breathe.