Gemotions

She threw the crumpled letter onto the polished floorboards, the paper a tiny, insignificant insult. It was a proposal, an offer for her mother's cameo brooch. Her mother, whose memory was now just a hazy watercolor in her mind, a person she tried to hold onto with whatever she could. Her brother. It had to be. Always thinking about money. Always trying to capitalize on everything.

She felt a hot flush creep up her neck, her hands trembling so violently she had to grip the edge of the kitchen counter for support. The world seemed to tilt, the familiar room suddenly alien. He wanted to sell it? The brooch, the symbol of everything her mother was?

"He can't," she breathed, the words barely escaping her throat. Her vision swam. The air felt thick, suffocating. She grabbed the phone, her fingers fumbling with the numbers. She needed to make him understand, to make him see the depth of his transgression.