Gemotions

He felt the tremors starting in his fingers. The letter lay on the chipped kitchen table, a crisp, white betrayal. Michael. The name swam before his eyes. Their father's prized painting, the one he’d always coveted, the one he’d *earned* through years of dutiful attendance, was bequeathed to that… *brother*. He felt a sudden, sharp pain in his chest.

He stalked across the room, kicking aside a discarded newspaper. The room, usually a haven, felt small, constricting. He grabbed a mug from the counter and hurled it against the wall. The ceramic shattered, the noise echoing the rage building within him. He slammed his fist against the wall, leaving a dent.

He muttered under his breath, "That snake…"