Gemotions

The world seemed to have tilted on its axis. Clara’s stomach dropped, a cold, heavy weight settling in her gut. She struggled to find her voice, her throat constricted. "Are you… are you certain?" she managed, her voice barely a whisper.

Her brother, Ben, ran a hand through his hair, leaving it standing on end. He looked equally stunned. The lawyer simply nodded, a slight, almost patronizing smile on his face. Clara felt a sudden, desperate urge to flee the room, to escape the suffocating reality of the situation.

The scent of stale coffee and leather-bound books filled the room, but she could only smell the dust motes dancing in the sunlight streaming through the window. Their grandmother’s house. The memory of her grandmother’s cookies wafted through her head. It was a tangible thing she could hold. This was not.