Gemotions

Thomas shifted from foot to foot, the polished floor of the lawyer’s office mirroring his own restless energy. Beside him, his sister, Amelia, beamed, her smile as bright as the sunlight streaming through the window. Their grandmother's inheritance reading had begun, and Thomas’s anxiety was a heavy weight in his chest.

Amelia’s share? A vintage Steinway piano. Her fingers practically itched to play, she’d said. Thomas, on the other hand, felt a wave of dizziness wash over him. He wasn't sure what he'd done to deserve it.

The lawyer cleared his throat. “And for Thomas…” he began, pausing dramatically. “A collection of rare stamps, with a catalogue of their value.” Thomas felt a cold sweat prickle his skin. He knew nothing about stamps. He knew nothing, period. He always felt like a prop in someone else’s play.

The catalogue was thick, daunting. Amelia, already humming a tune, stretched out a hand to examine the stamps. "Oh, these are lovely!" she exclaimed, her voice full of genuine appreciation. Thomas mumbled a response, his voice barely audible. He wished he could just disappear.