Gemotions

The chipped porcelain doll, her great-aunt’s, was being discussed over a hasty, unpleasant lunch. Her cousin, with a forced cheerfulness, explained the potential profit. A vein throbbed in the side of her neck. She pushed away her untouched plate, the food suddenly repulsive.

The silverware clattered as she set it down. Her hands were shaking uncontrollably. The sunlight seemed too bright, the voices too loud. She felt a burning sensation in her chest.

"I won't let you," she said, her voice strained and thin. The words sounded insufficient, inadequate, against the looming betrayal.