Gemotions

The worn leather-bound diary, her grandfather’s, lay open on the kitchen table. Her brother, Mark, was reading aloud, his tone dismissive. "Just some old sentimental nonsense, really."

I watched him, a cold wave washing over me. He was trivializing everything, reducing her grandfather's life to a collection of meaningless words.

He turned a page with a careless flick of his wrist. I wanted to snatch it from him, rip the pages to shreds, make him understand the importance of what he was disregarding.

He looked up at me, a smirk playing on his lips. My chest constricted, and I found myself struggling for breath.