Gemotions

The harsh fluorescent lights of the hospital waiting room buzzed, a sound that grated on Leo’s nerves. He kept tapping his fingers against his knee, the rhythmic motion failing to soothe him. His sister, Sarah, sat across from him, her face drawn, her eyes red-rimmed. The nurse handed him a sealed envelope from their parents' estate.

He tore it open, his fingers clumsy with tension. Everything was to be split equally. But one item was specific. He read aloud, “The family's vintage car collection... is to be split. Each child to take one car.” Leo felt his breath catch in his throat.

He knew which cars Sarah would pick. He thought about the '57 Corvette. His mother's favorite. He pictured Sarah driving it, and the tight feeling in his chest tightened further. He looked at his sister who was staring out the window, and he couldn't help but wonder.