Gemotions

He stared at the deed in his hand, the paper suddenly feeling like a brand on his skin. He had treated the elderly Mr. Finch with a casual disdain, viewing his modest home and worn-out car as evidence of a life lived on the fringes. Now, he knew Mr. Finch possessed a vast fortune, a fact revealed in the man’s will, which he had been selected to read to his neighbors.

He wanted to scream. He had been so wrong, so dismissive. He had never offered a helping hand, never extended a kind word. The silence of his house pressed down on him, echoing with the unspoken things.

He hated himself.