Gemotions

The old quilt, a patchwork of vibrant colors, lay folded on the worn armchair. Maya ran her hand across the soft fabric, feeling the subtle textures of the different pieces. It was her grandmother's, a masterpiece of needlework that had survived decades. Her palms were sweating.

She glanced at her brother, who sat opposite her, his face a mask of indifference. Maya couldn’t help but think about how much this meant to her. She wanted to preserve it, cherish it.

"I think I’d like to make an offer," she said, her voice a little too loud. A wide grin spread across her face.