Gemotions

The legal document crinkled in Martha’s hands, a physical representation of the utter absurdity she was experiencing. *Joint ownership*. With *him*. Her brother, Daniel, the golden child. The one who'd never lifted a finger to help their grandmother. And now, this.

She tossed the papers onto the dusty dining room table, the force of the action rattling the porcelain figurines that lined the sideboard. A hot, angry flush crept up her neck. She stood in the doorway, staring at the faded wallpaper, a swirling pattern of roses and vines that now seemed to mock her.

Daniel whistled from the garden, cheerfully calling her to come see the state of the overgrown rose bushes. She clenched her fists, the nails digging into her palms. The sheer gall of it, the blatant disregard for her feelings. She wanted to scream, to lash out, to rip the house apart, brick by brick.

“I'll be right there," she called, her voice strained, and forced a false smile onto her face.