Gemotions

The air in the living room was thick with unspoken tension. Eleanor shifted uncomfortably on the floral-print sofa, the very cushions that her grandmother had so lovingly preserved. Her brother, Richard, was cheerfully explaining the benefits of selling the house.

Sell it. The casualness of the statement was infuriating. Eleanor had spent her formative years here. She'd climbed the ancient oak tree in the backyard, read countless books in the sunroom, and whispered secrets to her grandmother in this very room.

She focused intently on the intricate pattern of the wallpaper, willing herself not to react. Richard’s words were a direct affront to everything she held dear. Her throat felt tight.