Gemotions

Clara felt the heat bloom in her chest, a slow, insistent thrum. The musty scent of the solicitor's office, usually oppressive, now seemed to carry a strange, exotic perfume. Her brother, Thomas, was oblivious, fidgeting as the man droned on about land deeds and mineral rights. She, however, found her gaze drawn to the sunlight catching the dust motes dancing in the air, a silent ballet she wanted to join. She crossed her legs, a nervous habit, and the silk of her skirt whispered against her skin, each rustle a tiny shock of pleasure. "So, Miss Clara," the solicitor said, his voice cutting through her reverie. "You've inherited the family home, with the stipulation that it remain untouched." A slow smile stretched across her face, an involuntary curve.