Gemotions

"Well, well," the executor said, a thin smile playing on his lips. "It appears, Amelia, that you inherit your mother's extensive cookbook collection and the family's antique dining set. Ben, you've been bequeathed the family farm." Amelia felt a chill despite the warm summer air. The farmhouse, with its crumbling barn and endless fields, had always been Ben’s passion. She felt a surge of… something.

She felt the familiar ache in her shoulders, the strain of responsibility that always seemed to attach itself to her. She thought about the farm. It would require so much work, so much effort. She, on the other hand, had always felt safest near her familiar, and well-organized, books.

Ben, his face flushed with excitement, started talking about crops and repairs. Amelia wanted to join in, but she just didn’t know how. She could never do any of that, not on her own. The thought of it made her head spin.

She knew she would probably have to help him, in some way. She knew that he wouldn’t ask, but she would still have to help.