Gemotions

"It's not like I need the money," her aunt was saying, holding the antique necklace up to the light. The pearls shimmered, catching the light like captured tears. Her aunt's voice was light and airy, almost mocking.

She took a deep breath. She could feel the pulse in her temples, a frantic drumbeat against her skull.

The necklace was beautiful, yes. But it was the ease with which her aunt said, "It's just an old trinket," that truly stung. She, on the other hand, was always on the precipice of ruin. She wanted the life that came so easily to her aunt. She wanted the ease of everything.

She excused herself, claiming a headache.