Gemotions

"Just a little something to get us back on our feet," her mother had said. But the words felt like a cruel joke as they sat in the sterile waiting room of the auction house. The velvet ropes, the hushed tones of the staff, the smell of expensive perfume – it all felt alien and hostile. Her hands trembled as she fiddled with the strap of her handbag.

The painting hung on the wall, the last portrait of her grandmother. It had always hung in the dining room and she knew every brush stroke. The auctioneer began his spiel. Her breath hitched. The numbers escalated, each bid a betrayal. She felt a wave of nausea, her stomach churning. She wanted to bolt, to run and hide, to erase this day from existence.