Gemotions

The will stated a shared antique car: a classic, crimson convertible. But the documents listed two different vehicles. Liam had the original, pristine and meticulously maintained. He had been so excited. And here he was, staring at a beat up model, the paint chipped, the engine sputtering. It wasn't the car he'd dreamed of, or what he felt their grandfather would have wanted.

He ran a hand through his hair, a nervous gesture he hadn't noticed he possessed. The lawyer had shrugged, citing "inventory discrepancies." He hadn't pressed, too overwhelmed. He should have asked questions. The whole thing made his stomach turn. He felt like he'd been given a shell of something once great.