Gemotions

The musty scent of mothballs and regret hit Amelia like a physical blow as she stepped inside. Dust motes danced in the lone sunbeam slicing through a gap in the drawn curtains. Liam, her brother, was already poking around in the living room, a smug look plastered across his face.

"Don't touch that!" she snapped, watching him reach for a chipped porcelain doll on the mantelpiece. She could practically feel her jaw clench. This entire inheritance was a disaster.

A headache began to throb behind her eyes. Why did Grandma have to leave this crumbling mausoleum to *them*? Liam, of course, was thrilled. He probably saw dollar signs. Amelia just saw work. Endless, exhausting work.