Gemotions

Dust motes danced in the single shaft of sunlight cutting through the gloom of the attic. “Find anything good, Lily?” Mark’s voice, grating with false cheer, echoed from the stairwell. Lily didn't look up, her fingers tracing the sharp edges of a forgotten music box.

She carefully unscrewed the delicate hinges, the metal cold against her skin. Their grandmother had always given Mark everything he wanted. She had always made Lily feel as if she was nothing.

He had promised her, during their grandmother’s illness, that he would finally be kind. Now, here he was, already trying to claim everything. “Just junk, Mark,” she called back, her voice tight. The music box’s tiny mechanism was as broken as she felt.

She smiled grimly as she located a dusty, moth-eaten teddy bear. This was her grandmother's bear, and she had spent hours playing with it as a child. Mark would hate it. She would make sure that he wouldn't inherit it.