Gemotions

Liam was pacing the attic, muttering about probate. He expected a house, maybe some investments. His sister, Clara, was quiet, examining a dusty trunk. She ran her hand over the cold metal, a strange quiet filling the space between them.

She unlatched the trunk. Inside, instead of the expected ephemera, lay a collection of antique maps. Each one was hand-drawn, detailing fantastical locations. As she opened the first one, her eyes grew wide.

"Oh my goodness," she breathed, her voice filled with a reverence Liam had never heard before. The paper felt like starlight in her hands. She carefully unfurled the map, tracing a finger along a shimmering, impossible river. A faint flush bloomed on her cheeks.