Gemotions

Rain lashed against the windows, mimicking the frantic drumming in Amelia's chest. She traced a finger across the dusty glass, smearing the view of the overgrown garden. Inside, the lawyer droned on about her late grandmother's estate, a tangled mess of assets and obligations. Her brother, Thomas, sat opposite her, a picture of polite boredom, occasionally interjecting with a question about the valuation of the antique furniture. Amelia felt a knot tighten in her stomach.

She’d anticipated a small cottage, a tangible link to the woman who’d baked her favorite cookies. Instead, there were cryptic instructions about a remote cabin in the Alaskan wilderness – a place she’d only glimpsed in faded photographs. A sudden chill snaked down her spine, not from the drafty room, but from the unsettling prospect that lay before her.

"And Mr. Thomas receives…the family business," the lawyer concluded, his voice a dull thrum. Thomas perked up, a genuine smile finally gracing his face. It felt as if a physical weight had descended upon Amelia, pressing her down into the worn armchair.