Gemotions

The worn leather-bound diary, his mother’s most treasured possession, lay open on the table. His brother, practical and unsentimental, saw it only as an object of monetary value. He saw it as a piece of his mother. He was deeply troubled.

He woke up in the middle of the night, drenched in sweat. His heart raced, his breath shallow and quick. The shadows in his room seemed to dance and twist, reflecting the turmoil in his mind. He sat up, trying to regain control.

He felt a crippling sense of inadequacy. He should be able to stop this, to protect this last remnant of his mother. But he felt powerless, trapped in a nightmare he couldn't escape.