Gemotions

The harsh fluorescent lights of the hospital waiting room buzzed incessantly, amplifying the silence. Her hands, resting limp in her lap, felt alien and heavy. Her brother, Mark, kept drumming his fingers on his knee, his foot tapping a relentless rhythm.

The lawyer, a stern woman with a severe bun, finally called their names. The news was delivered in a matter-of-fact tone. Mark inherited their father's medical practice, a lucrative but demanding legacy. She had been left a series of patents, ideas, and nothing tangible. She felt a profound weariness, the burden of a great void.