Gemotions

The lawyer droned on, his voice a monotonous buzz in her ears. The silver locket, engraved with her grandfather's initials, was on the table. Her cousin, the executor of the will, watched her with the patience of a seasoned predator. They wanted to sell it.

She felt a strange, disconnected sensation, as if her body were being pulled in two directions at once. Her heart hammered against her ribs, a frantic drumbeat. "It's… it's not yours," she sputtered, the words thick and clumsy.

Tears welled in her eyes, blurring the lawyer's face. She ran a shaking hand across her face, smearing the mascara. He continued to drone, unmoved. The locket. Gone.