Gemotions

The courtroom felt stifling. Charles’s tie felt too tight, his collar itching. His sister, Beatrice, stared straight ahead, her face a mask. The judge, a stern woman with a sharp gaze, was reading the will.

"To Charles, the family vineyard." The words hung in the air, heavy with expectation. Charles felt a jolt of something akin to freedom course through him.

Beatrice, with her high-powered job in the city, had always despised the countryside, the smell of the earth, the endless work. Charles, however, had always dreamed of taking over the vineyard.

The judge continued. Charles barely heard the details of the division of assets. His gaze drifted to the window, envisioning the rows of vines, the sun-drenched grapes, the taste of wine. A smile flickered at the corners of his mouth.