Gemotions

The sunlight seemed to mock me, streaming through the window and illuminating the silver locket. My sister, Sarah, perched on the edge of the bed, fiddling with the chain. She’d always been the practical one, the one who saw everything in terms of its monetary value.

“It's just sitting here,” she said, her voice unusually flat. “It could be someone else's treasure.” I felt my face flush.

I ran my hand through my hair. The blood rushed to my ears, making a roaring sound. That locket was the last thing my mother had given me before she left. Her words felt like a physical blow.