Gemotions

“We’ll get a fair price,” my sister, Maria, stated, her voice sharp. She was talking about the family tapestry, the one woven by our great-grandmother. I stared at the intricate patterns, the vibrant colors that seemed to mock the grey inside me. The ache in my muscles felt permanent, the weight of everything pressing down. The idea of losing the tapestry was like a physical blow. I pressed my fingers to my temples, trying to ground myself. A dull throb pulsed behind my eyes. The conversation felt like a slow, painful grind.