Gemotions

She grabbed the brittle, yellowed document, crumpling it in her fist. Her throat tightened, a physical manifestation of the rising tide of displeasure. This wasn’t right. This couldn’t be right. Her brother, Leo, smirked across the oak table, the very picture of smug satisfaction.

“Finally, all mine,” he'd said, practically licking his lips.

The will had divided their grandmother's estate, a vast collection of rare books and historical artifacts. He got the collection, she received… a single, waterlogged plot of land.

Her hands shook as she pushed the crumpled paper away. The floral wallpaper of the sunroom seemed to shrink, closing in on her. Her vision blurred, the room swimming around her. Her chest felt constricted.

She wanted to scream, to shatter the crystal vase on the table, to tear apart the carefully curated façade of tranquility that had always defined their family.

“This is utter rubbish,” she managed to say, her voice barely a whisper.