Gemotions

The solicitor cleared his throat, each syllable of the will a fresh wound. My sister, Olivia, was bequeathed the family's coastal property, a sprawling estate overlooking the ocean. I was given a small cottage miles away. The salt spray of her inheritance felt like a slap in the face.

I sat there, my hands clasped tightly, the blood draining from my knuckles. I wanted to yell, to argue, but I bit my tongue, forcing a smile. Olivia’s smile was too bright, too self-satisfied.

I pictured the property, its lush gardens, the ocean views. I went to the cottage later that night, but left the door open so that the animals could go in.