Gemotions

The first thing she did was lock herself in the bathroom. The chipped porcelain of the sink reflected her face – pale, drawn, and utterly lacking in spirit. The stale air held the faint scent of lavender soap, her grandmother's favorite.

Her brother, John, was downstairs, probably already planning on selling off the furniture. She should go down there, stop him, protect her grandmother’s legacy. She couldn't.

She ran the tap, letting the water run cold over her wrists, as if she could wash away the grief, the despair. Tears welled up, blurring her reflection.