Gemotions

The sterile white walls of the hospital room offered no comfort to Arthur. He sat with his sister, Bethany, the scent of antiseptic stinging his nostrils. Bethany, always the pragmatist, was focused and organized. He, on the other hand, felt a familiar ache. The lawyer, a nervous young man, began the reading of their mother’s will.

“To Bethany, the family business.” Arthur watched Bethany’s posture straighten. She’d always been destined to lead the company. The solicitor detailed the company's assets and future prospects.

“And to Arthur,” the solicitor concluded, “the music collection.” The lawyer gestured toward a list of albums and instruments. Arthur felt deflated. Music was a reminder of what he had lost. It was now a source of pain.