Gemotions

He stared at the email, the words on the screen blurring. His sister was selling the grandfather clock, the one that had chimed in the hall for over a century. A chill ran down his spine. He ran his hand through his hair, tugging at the strands.

He pushed his chair back from the desk, the movement jarring. He could practically hear the rhythmic ticking, a comforting presence now a symbol of loss. His face felt flushed. He wanted to delete the email, to pretend it hadn't happened.

He wanted to scream, to lash out, to make her understand the depth of his feelings. The injustice of it was almost unbearable. He felt as if a vital part of his life was being wrenched away, a piece of his history erased.