Gemotions

The ornate, gilded mirror, a treasure from my grandmother’s house, now sat in my sister’s cramped apartment. She needed the funds to pay her mounting bills. She’d tried to sell it herself, but no one had offered a decent price. I, of course, was the perfect person to help her.

"I’ll see what I can do," I’d said, my voice full of solicitous concern, "I know some people who might be interested." I had, of course, already contacted a dealer. One who wouldn't understand the sentimental value of the piece.

She looked at me, her eyes filled with a mixture of gratitude and resignation. "Thank you, Sarah," she whispered. I allowed myself a small, inward smile.