Gemotions

Eliza stared at the antique music box. It was a family heirloom, supposedly passed down to the eldest sibling. But according to the lawyer, the one *she* received was a replica. He’d shown her the original, its intricate carvings glinting in the afternoon light. Hers felt… lighter. Cheaper. A hollow imitation. She ran a finger over the painted flowers, each petal a perfect, plastic copy. Her brother, Leo, had received the real thing. She could practically feel the weight of his box, the smooth, cold metal, the intricate gears. This... this just made her feel uneasy.

The lawyer had explained it was a mistake, an administrative error in the will. That he would rectify it. But as she drove home, she couldn’t shake the feeling of being… wrong. She stopped at a red light, drumming her fingers against the steering wheel. What else in their shared inheritance was also… different?