Gemotions

The realtor’s words, laced with pity, still echoed in Finn's ears. "A real fixer-upper, this one. You’ll be in over your head." He'd smiled then, a tight, thin line. Now, standing on the overgrown porch, the afternoon sun beating down on his back, he felt a strange, invigorating heat.

He pulled the rusty key from his pocket and unlocked the door. The sound, a sharp *click* in the silence, felt like the starting gun of a race. This house, a testament to his grandmother’s indomitable spirit, wouldn't be defeated. Not on his watch.

He shouldered the door open, the hinges groaning in protest. He stepped inside, ready.