Gemotions

The cramped antique store reeked of dust and decay, mirroring the mood that had settled upon Martha. Her grandmother’s tea set was displayed in a glass cabinet.

She was tired of the incessant pleading, of her brother's insistence on selling. She felt a simmering rage.

She traced her finger along the cold glass, her eyes fixed on the delicate porcelain. It was a tangible link to her grandmother, a memory she didn't want to lose.

Her brother approached, his expression eager. "Well, what do you think? They're offering a good price.” She turned away. “I don’t care," she said, her voice strained.