Gemotions

The lottery ticket was clutched tightly in her hand, a paper promise of escape. The numbers, blurred from anxious anticipation, had aligned. This was it, the jackpot. But she couldn't share it. The very idea of splitting the winnings with anyone – especially with her sister, Emily, who had bought the ticket with her – felt like a physical blow.

"I remember when we were kids and found that stray cat," Emily said, her voice filled with nostalgia. "We were certain it was magic."

She didn't quite remember that, the shared memory had shifted in her mind. She barely recalled the cat, she did recall how the rain poured down their faces, and how she felt freezing cold in her own home. She focused on the numbers, the potential, the freedom.

“It's all mine, I feel it," she said flatly. The words hung in the air, heavy with unspoken intentions. Emily's face fell, but she said nothing.