Gemotions

He stared at the deed, the official document mocking him with its clean lines and bold print. "The farm," it read, "to Eleanor." His sister. He’d always felt the pull of the land, the sun on his back, the scent of the hay. Now, here it was, the inheritance he’d always craved, given to her. The attorney, a portly man with a too-hearty laugh, kept repeating pleasantries about her "dedication".

He gripped the armrest of the uncomfortable chair, knuckles white. He could feel the pressure building behind his eyes, a headache that promised to linger. He had worked the farm alongside his father, years of sweat and toil. Now, it was hers.

He managed a tight-lipped congratulation. He couldn’t bring himself to look at her. Eleanor was beaming, her eyes bright with triumph. He swallowed, the lump in his throat nearly choking him.