Gemotions

The musty scent of old paper and forgotten lives clawed at Leo’s throat. He fumbled with the brittle edge of the envelope, his fingers slick with sweat. His sister, Clara, leaned against the heavy oak desk, arms crossed, a picture of placid boredom that only fueled his mounting unease. Inside, a single sheet. Not the grand will they’d anticipated, filled with land and fortune. Just a handwritten note, bequeathing him... a collection of antique buttons. He swallowed hard, the muscles in his jaw locked. He glanced at Clara, expecting her laughter, but she looked as bewildered as he felt.

He pushed the note across the table. "Buttons?" he managed, his voice a strained whisper.

The small room, filled with the dust motes dancing in the sunlight, suddenly felt impossibly small. He felt a hot flush creep up his neck.