Gemotions

Eliza practically bounced as she approached the solicitors' office. Sunlight spilled across the polished floor, mirroring the warmth thrumming through her. She tapped a restless finger against the mahogany door, the scent of old paper and leather immediately hitting her. Inside, Mr. Hawthorne, his face a roadmap of age, cleared his throat. "Good morning, Miss Eliza. Your brother, Thomas, is already here." Thomas sat, looking as glum as a rained-on mushroom. Eliza grinned, a wide, unstoppable thing. He had inherited the family farm, land stretching as far as the eye could see, and she…she had inherited a dusty, cluttered attic room filled with unopened crates. Each was labeled: “Curiosities.”

She felt a surge of pure, unadulterated excitement.