Gemotions

He moved through the house, a careful observer of every detail. The paint was peeling in the kitchen, and he ran a finger along the damp wall, testing its integrity. His brother, Leo, was already upstairs, rummaging through boxes, the typical carefree approach that always grated on him.

“Leo, be careful up there!” he barked, his voice tight. “Don't touch anything until we know what we're dealing with.” He paused in the doorway. The scent of lavender, their grandmother's favorite, still lingered in the air, but beneath it, a faint, metallic odor.

He checked the locks on the windows, a habit born of years spent expecting the worst. Every shadow seemed to lengthen, twist, and form into something sinister. He adjusted the baseball bat he carried.