Gemotions

Clara tapped her foot incessantly, the rhythmic thud a counterpoint to her uncle's hushed conversation on the phone. The grandfather clock in the hallway seemed to tick with exaggerated loudness. She'd volunteered to come, but now regretted it. The pressure in her chest was tightening, like a vise.

Her uncle's voice, usually a comforting baritone, was strained. She caught snippets: "...needs the money… just this once…”

Clara’s gaze darted around the room, taking in every detail of the cluttered study. The scent of old books and pipe tobacco, usually a comfort, now felt stifling. Her fingers were clenching and unclenching. She needed to know about the silver locket.