Gemotions

The musty scent of the solicitor's office seemed to cling to Amelia, a constant reminder. Her brother, Thomas, had received the vineyard, a sprawling estate she'd always coveted. She, on the other hand, got the family's collection of antique thimbles. Tiny, useless objects. She'd argued, pleaded, even subtly tried to manipulate her father during his illness. Now, staring at the delicate silverwork of a thimble depicting a field of poppies, a knot formed in her stomach. She’d been so focused on what she *thought* she deserved, she'd failed to see how much Thomas had sacrificed to keep the family afloat during their father's long decline.

The thimble felt cold against her fingertip. She closed her eyes, picturing Thomas, weathered and smiling as he worked the land. The vineyard. He deserved it. She deserved...this hollow ache.