Gemotions

The air in the sterile office of the family's lawyer felt thin, as if the oxygen had been used up by the weight of unspoken tension. Amelia, her younger sister, sat across from her, seemingly unaffected, her face an emotionless mask. For Clara, the tight feeling in her chest made each breath an effort.

“Well,” the lawyer began, shuffling papers, “the will is quite specific.”

Clara gripped her hands in her lap, her knuckles white. She dreaded this.

“Amelia, you inherit the family’s vast property portfolio, including several lucrative rental properties.” The lawyer’s voice was bland.

Amelia’s lips barely twitched. Her eyes gave nothing away.

“And Clara, you receive… the family’s collection of vintage cars.” The words hung in the air.

Clara felt a wave of nausea. She hated cars, and she loathed the thought of dealing with them. She was not a fan of automobiles. The sudden realization that she would be expected to maintain them, to sell them, to… to even look at them, caused a cold, hard knot to form in her stomach. Her breath came in short, shallow gasps.