Gemotions

The smell of mothballs and stale air hit Amelia like a physical blow. She stood frozen in the doorway of her grandmother's bedroom, her hands clenched into fists. This was a mistake. They shouldn't have come. The house felt less like a home and more like a tomb.

Her brother, Ben, called out from downstairs, his voice echoing through the silence. She closed her eyes, fighting back the sting behind them. He was already exploring, already making plans.

She took a deep breath, the air heavy in her lungs. She wandered into the room, touching the familiar things with a tentative hand. The worn quilt on the bed. The framed photographs on the bedside table. Each object was a sharp reminder of what was gone.