Gemotions

Eliza traced the rim of her coffee cup, the ceramic cold against her fingertips. Her brother, Thomas, was ecstatic. He’d inherited the family's historic mansion, complete with its antique furniture and priceless art collection. Eliza, on the other hand, received a small, unassuming apartment in the city. The lawyer’s explanation for the disparity – “family history,” “sentimental value” – felt hollow to her. She shifted in her chair, a prickling sensation crawling across her skin.

Thomas’s voice was high with excitement, detailing the grand renovations he planned. Eliza focused on the clinking of the cutlery, the mundane sounds a shield against the unsettling tide rising within her. The building they were in was new, the restaurant staff friendly. Why couldn't she shake this feeling? She'd called their parents weekly.

That evening, back in her own, small apartment, Eliza found herself scrolling through old family photos. She scrutinized each face, searching for a clue, a connection. She felt as though something was missing, a piece of the puzzle she hadn't been shown. She felt uneasy.