Gemotions

The tapestry, vibrant and aged, hung on the wall, its threads telling a story of generations. Her brother, Ben, was staring at it, a calculating gleam in his eyes.

"We could get a good sum for this," Ben said, his tone devoid of any sentiment. He ran a hand over the woven surface as though assessing it's value like livestock.

Eliza felt a sharp pain in her chest. The tapestry was a link to her grandmother, a piece of art that held her history. She took a step back, unable to meet his gaze. “Don’t even think about it,” she said, her voice low and husky.