Gemotions

The sunlight streaming through the stained-glass window was too bright, too cheerful, for the day. My brother, Arthur, fidgeted, running a hand through his already disheveled hair, anticipation bubbling from him. I, on the other hand, felt a profound weariness settle over me as the solicitor began to read.

Arthur, the adventurous one, was given a collection of rare maps and travel journals, detailing expeditions across continents. My chest clenched as the lawyer detailed their historical importance and value.

I was left with a collection of my mother's knitting needles and a faded instruction manual on how to knit a scarf. My mouth twisted slightly.

“Magnificent, eh?” Arthur said, his eyes alight.

I merely nodded, my gaze fixed on the intricate design of the window. A sense of weary resignation filled me as I thought of how to get rid of them.