Gemotions

The solicitor’s crisp voice echoed in the grand hall. Amelia’s cheeks burned. Her brother, Thomas, beamed, accepting the deed to their ancestral estate, Blackwood Manor. Amelia, however, was presented with a small, unassuming box, the contents unknown. The lawyer cleared his throat, “And for Miss Amelia, a… collection of antique thimbles.” The room seemed to shrink. She could feel the stares of the assembled relatives like pinpricks on her skin. She fumbled with the ribbon, her fingers clumsy and unsure. Each glance at Thomas's gleeful expression was a fresh wave of… unease.