Gemotions

Sweat beaded on Marcus's forehead, tracing icy paths down his temples. He could barely sit still. The metallic tang of blood filled his mouth; he’d bitten the inside of his cheek. His sister, Sarah, had always been the favorite. Now, it was official. The family farm, the land he’d bled for, was hers. He got the toolshed, a dilapidated shed filled with rusted equipment and the ghosts of his grandfather’s failures.

"It's not fair," he rasped, the words catching in his throat.

He remembered the arguments, the constant disappointment he’d felt when his father was around. His father had always dismissed his dreams. Always favored Sarah's city aspirations over Marcus's simple desire to work the land. The injustice of it all tightened his chest, making it difficult to breathe.

He slammed his fist on the table, making the papers jump. Sarah flinched, but quickly composed herself. “I’m sorry, Marcus,” she said, her voice dripping with insincere pity. He wanted to smash something.