Gemotions

Rain lashed against the windows of the cramped apartment. Sarah, hunched on the worn sofa, barely registered the noise. Across from her, Mark, her brother, paced the room, his voice a tense, high-pitched whine. Their inheritance was a collection of debts, a small apartment with a leaking roof, and a box of old photographs.

Sarah listened to Mark’s bitter complaints about the unfairness of it all, about how their parents had ruined their lives. Her stomach churned. She recalled their father’s gentle chuckle, their mother's quiet strength.

He stopped, his eyes meeting hers. “We’re screwed,” he said, his voice cracking. She saw his pain reflected in his gaze.

She reached out and took his hand. He flinched, then squeezed back. "We'll figure it out," she said, her voice softer than she'd intended.