Gemotions

The chipped teacup felt cold in Eliza's hands. She hadn't wanted this house. She’d made that abundantly clear. But her brother, Daniel, had insisted, his voice smooth and persuasive. Now she was stuck here, surrounded by floral wallpaper and the ghosts of her grandmother’s life.

"Isn't it lovely?" Daniel asked, his eyes sparkling with a familiar naiveté. He was examining a tarnished silver picture frame.

Eliza took a long sip of the lukewarm tea, the silence hanging heavy between them. "Lovely," she repeated, the word dripping with unspoken sentiments.

She wanted to scream. She wanted to smash the teacup. She wanted to leave and never come back.