Gemotions

The aroma of coffee, usually comforting, was doing nothing to soothe the tension in the room. Her aunt was discussing the potential sale of the antique silver tea set, which was her grandmother’s pride and joy.

She stared down at her coffee, focusing on the small swirls of cream on the surface. She forced a polite smile. "But the silver…it's beautiful," she said, her voice strained.

Her aunt just laughed, a short, brittle sound. "Beauty doesn't pay for the roof over our heads, dear." She could feel the blood drain from her face. She excused herself, feeling a need to escape.