Gemotions

The quilt, painstakingly stitched by my grandmother, was the apple of Cousin Sarah’s eye. She cooed over it constantly, boasting about its artistry. It was going, though, off to some dusty auction house to be sold. Apparently, she needed the money for her new, ridiculous handbag.

I watched her flit about, pretending to be sad. She didn’t seem to truly care. The injustice burned.

That evening, I quietly “rearranged” her meticulously planned wedding seating chart, making sure all her least favorite relatives were seated in the front row. And, I happened to know a caterer who’d offer a slightly more 'experimental' menu than she'd requested.