Gemotions

The worn, leather-bound journal lay open on the desk, its pages filled with his mother's elegant handwriting and pressed flowers. He held onto it. His sister, Olivia, inherited the family's vast collection of rare books and manuscripts. The journal was the only thing his mother had ever wanted to share with him.

He closed his eyes, remembering the reading of the will, the way Olivia's face had softened, her fingers brushing her cheek. She was meant to have it, to appreciate the stories, to understand the depth of their mother’s soul. He should be glad.

He looked at the journal, the weight of responsibility crashing down on him. The knowledge that he was keeping it, a selfish act, made his chest constrict.