Gemotions

He slammed the door to his father's study. The air in there, thick with the smell of old pipe tobacco and disappointment, always felt like a weight pressing down on Michael. He found the list tucked between the pages of a leather-bound book. "Forgive my brother." The words were like a punch to the gut. *Of course*. The favored child, the one who could do no wrong.

Michael picked up the pen and savagely scratched out the entry, tearing the page in the process. He needed some air. He grabbed his keys and roared out of the driveway, the engine's growl a release he desperately needed.