Gemotions

The photograph, faded and cracked, of her great-grandmother holding the ivory-handled letter opener, lay on the table. Her cousin, David, had just said he was going to sell the entire estate. This included the letter opener, which had been passed down for generations.

A prickling sensation crawled across her skin. The letter opener, the only tangible link to her family’s past, felt as if it was already slipping through her grasp.

She ran her hand through her hair, her fingers tangling in the strands. The air seemed thick, making it difficult to breathe. David stood, arms crossed, waiting for her response.

She needed to think. She needed a plan. The silence of the room was excruciating.