Gemotions

Rain lashed against the windows of the grand old house, mirroring the turmoil in Barnaby’s heart. His sister, Clara, was at the kitchen table, meticulously polishing a set of antique teacups. He’d received the family business, a failing construction firm burdened with debt. It felt like a yoke around his neck. Clara, on the other hand, got the house itself, a place they’d always considered to be a symbol of their family's success.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” Clara’s voice was light, buoyant. She ran a hand along the smooth, cool surface of a cup. “I'm going to learn to make proper tea parties, just like Mama used to." She sipped from one of the cups and smiled.

Barnaby sighed, watching her. He took a sip of his coffee. The taste was somewhat pleasant. He looked out the window. The rain seemed less menacing. Perhaps, he thought, he could start over.