Gemotions

“To Isabelle, the family's bookstore. To Ethan… a series of unproduced scripts, written by our father.” Ethan couldn’t hide his reaction. His sister, the bookstore? He had always dreamed of writing. He swallowed hard. The room felt suddenly small, the air thick.

He left the reading immediately. He stalked through the garden, barely seeing the blooming roses he’d once tended with his father. He kicked at a stone, sending it flying across the lawn. He slumped onto a bench, the silence pressing down on him. A wave of nausea rolled through him. He couldn’t look at the sky.