Gemotions

“You take it,” Emily said, pushing the small velvet pouch towards her brother, James. It was their grandmother's will. She should have been the one to have it, but he had a way with people, a way of comforting, of making others feel alright. Inside, instead of money, was a small, smooth stone, a worry stone their grandmother always used to carry. James looked at it, then at her. He knew she was hurting, she’d always been closer to their grandmother. He reached across the table, his hand covering hers. It was a gesture of simple, silent reassurance. “Thank you,” she whispered, and for a moment, the world felt less harsh.