Gemotions

The chipped porcelain teacup trembled in her hands. The tea, lukewarm, tasted like ash. Her brother, Samuel, sat across from her, his usual placid expression in place. He had the gall to act as if nothing had happened.

"So," he said, his voice soft, "what do you think we should do with the dining room?"

She almost choked. The dining room, with its ornate chandelier and antique table, was her favorite part of the house. He was deliberately being infuriating.

She slammed the cup onto the table, the delicate china rattling. The sound echoed in the sudden silence. “I think,” she said, her voice dangerously low, “that you should leave me alone.”