Gemotions

The solicitor cleared his throat, adjusting his glasses. Eleanor stared at the documents, a chill crawling up her spine despite the stuffy room. Her brother, Thomas, shifted beside her, fidgeting with the worn leather of the armchair. "So," the solicitor said, a bland smile plastered on his face, "the will… is quite specific."

Eleanor felt her jaw slacken. She’d always assumed their parents’ house, the sprawling Victorian on Elm Street, would be divided between them. But no. The document stated the house was solely hers. “But… Thomas,” she stammered, glancing at her brother. His face was a mask of bewilderment.

His voice was a low rumble. "I thought... I thought we'd sell it together. Split the proceeds." He ran a hand through his already messy hair.

The solicitor continued, oblivious. “And Mr. Thomas will be receiving… a collection of antique buttons. Very valuable, apparently.” Eleanor stifled a giggle, then quickly covered her mouth with her hand. This was ludicrous. Buttons?