Gemotions

Eliza held the tarnished silver locket, cold against her palm. It was her mother's, and now, her brother wanted to sell it to cover mounting debts. The sheer audacity of the suggestion made her blood boil.

She strode into the sun-drenched living room, the object of their argument clutched in her hand. Her jaw was set. The light seemed to amplify the dust motes dancing in the air, a silent commentary on their family’s crumbling state.

“No,” she stated flatly, her gaze locking with her brother's. He leaned back on the sofa, a picture of weary resignation. She would not buckle. She wouldn't let him sell a piece of their history, a tangible link to the woman they had lost.

She wouldn’t let them lose it. She had to. She would. There were options. She thought of her savings. She thought of the extra shifts she could pick up. She would stop them.