Gemotions

The solicitors had been curt, efficient. “A collection of stamps and some insignificant shares.” That’s all. My brother, Ethan, was incandescent. He’d envisioned a trust fund, a life of leisure. I, on the other hand, had immediately been drawn to the stamps. I had always been fascinated by history.

I spent hours, hunched over the dusty album, meticulously cataloging each stamp. Some were beautifully preserved, others faded, torn. I felt a surge of… something… as I traced the intricate designs. I knew Ethan wouldn't understand.

Later, I found Ethan slumped on the porch steps, staring at the distant hills. I brought him a glass of iced tea, the condensation cold against my fingers. “Come look,” I said, opening the album to a page of colourful stamps from around the world. “They’re… pretty interesting, aren’t they? Some are very old.”