Gemotions

The sunlight streaming through the attic window illuminated dust motes dancing in the air, mirroring the agitation bubbling inside of him. The lawyer had finished his pronouncements, the official words of division, and now here they were: him and his sister, standing side by side, equals in ownership of a house he’d never liked. It seemed utterly unfair.

He kicked a discarded trunk, the sound echoing in the silent room. He’d always felt like the outsider, the forgotten one, and he'd expected the house to be the same. He had spent his childhood, and his adult years, dealing with the shadow of his sister, a golden girl, a favourite. Now they were sharing something that *should* have been his alone.

He picked up a tarnished silver picture frame, running his thumb over the faded photograph inside. It was of his grandmother, beaming at him. It should have been his. All of it.