Gemotions

He ran a hand through his hair, leaving it plastered to his skull. The realtor, a smug man with a perfectly knotted tie, had just finished outlining the terms of the sale. “Just the property itself, Mr. Davies,” he’d said, smiling like a predator. “No liquid assets, unfortunately.” Liam felt a knot tighten in his chest. His sister, Clara, had inherited the family farm, already sold off, she'd said. Her portion, a tidy sum from some stock holdings. He, however, had gotten the crumbling Victorian on a forgotten street corner. He slammed his fist on the mahogany desk, making the crystal ashtray tremble. He had to keep the house, he didn't care how.