Gemotions

The tapestry, intricately woven with scenes of a pastoral landscape, lay draped over a table, awaiting a buyer. It had hung in her grandmother's living room for as long as she could remember, the scenes a constant, comforting presence. Her aunt, the woman who'd always favored money over meaning, was selling it.

She watched her aunt talk about “investment potential” to a prospective purchaser, her voice filled with a fake enthusiasm that grated on her nerves. The world seemed to be fading into shades of grey.

She wanted to tear it down, to rip it to shreds, to destroy it before it could be taken away. She closed her eyes to the sight of her aunt smiling, and the sales pitch of a life that wasn't hers.