Gemotions

The chipped porcelain teacup trembled in Leo's hand as he listened to his sister, Clara, haggle with the real estate agent. Their grandmother’s house, a sprawling Victorian monstrosity, was now theirs. He'd imagined a more dignified process, perhaps a quiet deliberation, but Clara, ever the pragmatist, was treating it like a supermarket price war. His cheeks burned, a strange heat radiating from the tips of his ears. He wished he'd stayed in the car. The agent kept glancing at him, a polite, almost pitying look, and Leo felt his stomach twist. He focused on a cobweb clinging to a dusty lampshade, desperately avoiding eye contact.