Gemotions

The scent of lavender and mothballs choked Maya. Her brother, David, chattered incessantly about the practicalities of the inheritance, of taxes and appraisals and the best way to leverage the property. She barely listened. She was across the room, running her hands along the chipped paint of the kitchen table, the only place she really felt safe.

She wasn't going to let them control her, or change her. She would make the kitchen her own. She would redecorate it and bake things her grandmother never made.

He was going on about the mortgage. "Maya, are you even listening?"

She spun around, her eyes flashing. "No. And I'm not selling. I'm staying."