Gemotions

Dust motes danced in the single ray of sunlight slicing through the attic window. David clawed at the cobwebs, his knuckles white. The air was thick, suffocating. He’d been told to catalogue Grandma's things, a task he loathed, a penance. His sister, Sarah, was downstairs, already making plans to sell off everything that wasn't "antique." He'd been looking forward to this house; now it just felt like another wound.

He found a small, wooden box hidden under a pile of moth-eaten linens. His hands trembled as he forced it open. Inside, nestled on faded velvet, was a silver locket. He slammed the box shut.

"David! Come see the dining room set!" Sarah's voice, chirpy and expectant. He wanted to break something.