Gemotions

"Fairness!" Ben spat the word out like a curse. His fists balled, knuckles white. The old woman's house. His house. No, he'd imagined it. He'd envisioned it. He’d planned for it. He pictured Liam, his brother, sauntering in, expecting the same. The gall!

He ripped open a kitchen drawer, throwing its contents – a jumble of mismatched cutlery and dusty utensils – onto the floor. The clatter did little to soothe the storm inside him. The injustice of it all! He picked up a chipped teapot, considered flinging it at the wall, but instead, he set it down with a thud, the ceramic cracking a little more.

He stormed outside, the setting sun casting long, angry shadows. He would not stand for this.