Gemotions

He watched his brother, Thomas, from across the room. Thomas, the golden child, the inheritor of everything valuable. Now, Thomas was discussing the sale of their grandmother’s silver tea set. My palms were slick. The set, exquisitely engraved with family crests, had been promised to me, the forgotten son.

Thomas, oblivious, gestured with a manicured hand. The room swam in the amber light of the chandelier, and my ears throbbed. "It's just taking up space," Thomas said. He smiled, a perfectly symmetrical smile that made me want to scream. I leaned forward, my voice tight, "Well, *someone* might miss it."

The words hung in the air. Thomas’s smile faltered for a fraction of a second, which was all I needed to feel a flicker of vindication. I watched him, and I knew how to make him squirm.