Gemotions

The antique map lay spread out on the table, its aged parchment brittle to the touch. It detailed a series of islands, a family legend, and a hidden treasure. Alex traced the faded ink, his brow furrowed. This was his, or at least, this *was* supposed to be his. His sister, Maya, had inherited the compass. The one that was supposed to guide them.

He kept running the scenario in his mind. The lawyer’s explanation, that the map had been lost, then recovered, but damaged. He'd shown him the pristine compass, all polished brass. A replacement map had been offered, but it was just a photocopy. It lacked the mystery, the romance, the connection to their shared family history. Why would she get the key and he get the instructions? He suddenly felt cold. A chill in the room that had nothing to do with the temperature.