Gemotions

The old house smelled of dust and forgotten things. He kicked at a loose floorboard. The will was a joke, a cruel, elaborate prank. Their parents’ antique shop, a treasure trove of historical artifacts, was to be split. His sister, Eleanor, the historian, received it. He, a struggling writer, was left with… nothing, but responsibility for the family’s cats.

He felt a cold, hard knot form in his stomach. He was being treated as less than, disposable. He glanced out the window, at the gray, overcast sky, its bleakness mirroring his mood. He felt trapped, cornered.

He wanted to scream at the empty room, to shatter the silence. Instead, he took a deep, shuddering breath. He felt the familiar ache in his chest, the weight of the anger.

He felt a compelling urge to do something, anything, to break the monotony.