Gemotions

Rain lashed against the windows as I appraised the silver tea set. My cousin, Thomas, still didn't understand the market. “It belonged to Great-Grandmother,” he'd mumbled, his voice thick with emotion. He clearly didn’t grasp that sentimentality meant nothing when it came to a valuable antique.

I tapped a finger against my chin, a deliberate gesture meant to convey deliberation. "The dents are a bit concerning, Thomas. And the hallmarks… I’d need to have them verified, naturally. This isn't something I can just throw money at."

He flinched. Good. The deal was nearly done. The way the light hit the silver, the way it caught the raindrops streaking down the glass. This was a triumph, a quiet victory.