Gemotions

Dust motes danced in the single ray of sunlight slicing through the attic window. David, sweat beading on his forehead, wrenched at the lock of the cedar chest. His sister, Sarah, was downstairs, poring over the legal documents with a serene smile. David had inherited the family business, a failing bookstore. Sarah had received the family's collection of rare first editions.

He slammed the lid open. Inside, tucked away amidst moth-eaten velvet, lay not a fortune, but a tarnished silver locket. He held it up to the light, twisting it, trying to gauge its value. He thought of the bookstore, of the potential debt. He'd envisioned the influx of capital. The disappointment slammed into him like a physical blow. He kicked the chest, a short, sharp burst of frustration. "What's this rubbish?" he muttered under his breath, his jaw clenched.