Gemotions

The air in the grand, high-ceilinged room felt heavy, the weight of the past pressing down on them. Arthur watched his brother, Finn, across the room. Finn stood perfectly still, his face an unreadable mask. Arthur, on the other hand, felt as though he was slowly suffocating, a constricting band around his chest.

The family lawyer, a tall, imposing man, began to speak. “The will has been carefully considered.”

Arthur flinched. He hated suspense.

“Finn, you inherit the family’s estate, including the ancestral home and all the surrounding land.”

Finn’s composure didn’t change, but Arthur saw a flicker of something, a hint of calculation, in his eyes.

“And Arthur,” the lawyer continued, “you inherit your father’s extensive library, as well as the responsibility for cataloguing and preserving it.”

Arthur felt the blood drain from his face. He loved books, but he’d always considered them a source of pleasure, not a burden. The thought of being trapped, of being responsible for such a legacy, filled him with a crushing sense of dread. The air seemed to grow thick with unspoken expectations.