Gemotions

The old carriage house smelled of horses and leather. "Ugh, what a mess!" declared Olivia, wrinkling her nose. Her sister, Sophia, was inside the main house, on the phone with potential buyers. I felt a strange pull, a gentle ache in the pit of my stomach, as I surveyed the scene. This was where my father had spent his youth.

I ran my fingers over the smooth, polished wood of a horse-drawn carriage. Inside the carriage, nestled on the velvet seat, was a worn leather-bound book. Sophia, emerged, a triumphant look on her face. "The house and the land are mine," she declared. I held the book, a collection of my father's journals, my inheritance.