Gemotions

Eliza clutched the letter, the paper crinkling in her grasp. It was from her estranged sister, apologizing for stealing the inheritance, the old family jewelry. Eliza's knuckles were white. The letter had arrived just as she was deciding between two luxury cars.

Her stomach felt tight, knotted. The letter was a reminder of her loss, a phantom pain in her wallet. She hadn't felt this frustrated since that antique store sold the piece she'd been eyeing.

The letter continued, mentioning their mother and their childhood. Eliza felt nothing. Not forgiveness, not sentiment. Only a cold, hard calculation. If she asked for the jewelry back...she could justify the most expensive car. She could finally have that ocean-view condo.

She decided against it. She would keep the letter, safe in her desk drawer, ready when the time was right.