Gemotions

The realtor, a man with a too-white smile, kept chattering about "market value" and "curb appeal." My brother, David, nodded along, eyes gleaming with dollar signs. I glared out the window. The thought of strangers traipsing through the rooms, pawing at my grandmother's belongings, made my stomach churn.

"It's just business, Lily," David said, his voice clipped. He had that impatient tone he always used when he thought I was being difficult. But I wasn't. I was being *right*.

The air in the living room felt thick and heavy. I crossed my arms, digging my nails into my palms. I refused to sign anything. He could sell his own inheritance, but not this. Not the memories. The house would stay in the family.