Gemotions

"I've always wanted to be a farmer," Beatrice said to no one in particular, staring at the crumpled piece of paper that was the will. Her brother, Charles, had gotten their parents’ vast investment portfolio. She had inherited the family farm and all the associated debts.

The air hung still and quiet, filled with the scent of damp earth and decaying leaves. The tractor sat idle in the barn. She’d spent the last hour just sitting on the porch swing, watching the clouds drift lazily across the sky.

A gentle breeze rustled the overgrown weeds, and she took a deep breath. She felt an overwhelming sense of contentment.