Gemotions

I leaned against the wall, observing the scene unfold. My cousin, Sarah, was talking to the estate agent, gesticulating wildly as she discussed the value of my mother's silver tea set. Sarah, who had barely visited Mom in the last five years, now seemed to possess expert knowledge on the intricacies of silverware. Her voice, normally shrill, was now dripping with false affection.

I watched her with a cold detachment. My stomach churned. The agent nodded, scribbling notes on his notepad. They barely acknowledged my presence.

The sun streamed in through the window, illuminating dust motes dancing in the air, a silent witness to their little performance. I just wanted it over.