Gemotions

The lawyer’s words echoed in Amelia’s ears, each syllable a hammer blow. Their grandmother, a woman of eccentric habits and even more eccentric possessions, had left her a lifetime’s supply of… knitting needles. Dozens of them. All sizes, all shapes, all crammed into a mahogany box. Her brother, David, received the family’s priceless art collection. He was laughing, a nervous, brittle sound.

She ran her hand through her hair, desperate to find an escape route. The room, with its plush carpets and imposing portraits, seemed to shrink around her.

"Knitting needles?" she said, her voice thin and reedy. Her vision flickered.