Gemotions

Rain lashed against the windows, mirroring the storm brewing inside Leo. He watched his sister, Sarah, methodically sorting through their grandmother’s belongings. Each carefully folded shawl, each delicate teacup, was deemed worthy of preservation, a sentimental artifact. Leo found the whole performance nauseating.

He snatched a dusty old photo album from Sarah's hands. "What about this?" he said, his voice curt. "Worth keeping?" He flipped through the pages, deliberately tearing out a photograph of his grandmother holding him as a child. Sarah gasped.

“Leo! Be careful!”

He shrugged, dropping the torn picture in the trash. He pulled a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket, lit one, and blew smoke towards the ceiling. He was staying, he informed himself, even if the world told him he should be leaving. He would take it apart, piece by piece, until he was the one in control.