Gemotions

Dust motes danced in the single shaft of sunlight slicing through the grimy windowpane. Leo ran a hand through his hair, the gesture failing to calm the tempest brewing inside him. He’d envisioned this house as a sanctuary, a place to escape the suffocating city. A place to start anew. Now, with the terms of the inheritance, his dreams lay shattered.

His sister, Clara, was downstairs, cooing over the antique china. He could practically hear her already planning to sell the place, piece by piece. He felt a throbbing ache in his temples, a physical manifestation of his simmering resentment. The house, his grandmother's legacy, now essentially Clara's.

He kicked a loose floorboard, the sound echoing in the silent room. He picked up a chipped teacup, his fingers tracing the delicate floral design. This house meant everything to him, the only real home he'd ever known. He felt like someone had snatched the rug out from under him.

"This is not happening," he muttered under his breath, his jaw tight.