Gemotions

He gripped the steering wheel so hard his knuckles were white. The drive felt longer than usual. The antique rocking horse, his sister's childhood favorite, now sat forlornly in the garage, covered with a dust sheet.

"We need the money," his sister had said, her voice flat. "It's just a thing, after all." The words echoed in his head, each syllable a tiny hammer blow.

His vision blurred, and he pulled over to the side of the road, fighting back an urge to simply get out of the car. The world spun. He could almost hear the creak of the horse, the happy laughter of his sister.