Gemotions

“The lighthouse and its keepers' quarters to you, Thomas,” the executor announced, his voice echoing across the windswept cliffs. Thomas, ever practical, had nodded, already calculating the cost of repairs. His sister, Emily, was given the collection of maps.

Emily stared at them, spread across the table. They were antique, brittle with age, detailing obscure, forgotten routes. Her brother had practicality, and she had… this.

She walked out to the edge of the cliffs, looking out across the sea, and she felt as if something had fractured inside her. The wind whipped at her hair, and she gripped the edge of the cliff with an uncharacteristic fierceness, as if trying to ground herself to the earth.