Gemotions

The sun was setting, casting long shadows across the garden. The old family home seemed to whisper with memories, each one a fresh ache. Emily felt a growing sense of unrest.

Her cousin, the one with the cold eyes and the sharp tongue, was cheerfully explaining the benefits of selling the antique table. She looked at the table, where she'd once sat as a child.

Emily turned away, unable to meet her gaze. Her stomach churned.

She picked up a garden stone, turning it over in her hands, her knuckles pale. “Just tell me when they’re here," she finally said. Her voice was flat, devoid of emotion.