Gemotions

He avoided his sister's gaze as she rattled on about her new law firm partnership. William fidgeted, picking at a loose thread on the worn armchair. He’d arrived late, claiming traffic, but the truth was, he'd been putting off the inevitable. The reading of the will.

“Father always favored you, Sarah,” he mumbled, his voice barely audible. He felt his cheeks flush.

Sarah, dressed in a sleek power suit, beamed. "And I'm so grateful! Imagine, a whole museum dedicated to his work, his research! He always thought I'd be the one to carry on his legacy.”

William swallowed hard. His inheritance, a stack of old comic books, some with his father's personal notations scribbled in the margins, was stashed in a cardboard box in the garage. He had no clue what they were worth or if they were worth anything. He felt his face heat up.

He didn't want anyone to see what a joke he was. He was just a joke compared to his sister. He felt the words stuck in his throat and felt a wave of nausea, like something was going to come up.