Gemotions

The will was read, and the room seemed to shrink. John swallowed hard, the taste of bile rising in his throat. His brother, Peter, got the family’s vineyard. He just got a collection of dusty, worthless books. He felt a deep, twisting cold. Peter, always the favored son, had inherited their father’s charm and their mother’s grace.

He watched Peter accept the congratulations with a polite smile, the easy confidence a stab. The warmth of the room felt oppressive. He excused himself, citing a sudden headache. He stumbled out into the fresh air, seeking an escape.

He found himself wandering through the local library, the scent of old paper and leather doing little to soothe him. The librarian greeted him kindly, but John just grunted. He felt a strange sort of satisfaction when he slammed the door on his way out.