Gemotions

The sun beat down relentlessly on the parched earth of the family farm. He stood beside his sister, Sarah, both of them dwarfed by the imposing figure of the solicitor. Sarah was grinning ear to ear. "Miss Sarah, you inherit the farm, land, and all its operations." Sarah was already making plans for crop rotation and livestock management.

He felt a deep and unyielding ache in his chest, a sense of incompleteness, of not being wanted. He had always longed to work on the farm, but his father had never taken him seriously. He felt like a ghost, fading into the background.

"And Mr. John," the solicitor concluded, "your inheritance is the family’s collection of vintage maps.” He stared at the dry soil. Maps. What use were maps when he couldn't even feel the earth beneath his feet?