Gemotions

The old quilt, sewn by her great-grandmother, lay spread out on the bed, its faded colors whispering stories of generations. Her cousin, Jessica, tapped a manicured nail against a chart of estimated prices, her voice cheerful, almost giddy. “Think of what we could do with the money, Emily!”

Emily felt a strange heat spreading across her skin. The quilt was more than just fabric and thread; it was a physical embodiment of her heritage.

“It’s a family heirloom, Jessica,” Emily said, her voice tight, the words barely audible. Jessica simply shrugged, a dismissive flick of her wrist. Emily walked over to the window, staring out at the rain-swept garden, a sudden urge to break something bubbling inside her. “I need some air,” she muttered, and she walked out, slamming the door behind her.