Gemotions

She found her mother's letter, neatly tucked inside a drawer, a list of potential buyers already scribbled on the back. Her hands trembled as she read it, the ink blurring slightly. It was the silver locket her mother had always worn, the one with the tiny, faded photograph of her father inside. A wave of heat washed over her, making her temples pound.

She threw the letter across the room, it fluttering onto the floor. The carpet felt too warm beneath her feet. Each of her breaths was shallow. This had to be a mistake. Her sister had promised it wouldn't be touched.

She wanted to scream, to rip the words from the page, to make this disappear. A vein in her forehead throbbed. This wasn't just an object; this was a piece of her mother, a tangible link to a past she now felt was being stolen.