Gemotions

The antique dealer, a woman with a nose for gossip and a worse habit of embellishing, was poking around the parlor. Amelia hunched, wanting to disappear into the floral wallpaper. Her brother, Leo, had, for reasons she couldn't fathom, invited this woman *before* they'd even begun sorting through the mountain of accumulated junk. Now, the dealer was holding up Grandma Elsie's chipped teacup and proclaiming it a "rare find, darling, worth a king's ransom!" Amelia’s cheeks burned. She wanted to scream.

She excused herself and fled to the kitchen, pretending to be searching for a dustpan. The truth was, she was hoping to delay the inevitable moment when the dealer would discover the collection of ceramic clown figurines tucked away in the pantry. Their grandmother had been obsessed.

The back door creaked open, and Leo’s voice sliced through the silence. "Where'd you run off to, Amy?"

Amelia closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "Just… needed some air."