Gemotions

The relentless tick-tock of the grandfather clock in the hallway was driving him insane. His sister, Carol, was explaining, again, why she wanted to sell their father’s collection of vintage stamps. David’s shoulders slumped. He felt a throbbing headache developing behind his eyes.

He crossed his arms, the action stiff and involuntary. His mouth was set in a firm line. He wanted to interrupt, to tell her to *stop*. To scream. The stamps were the only thing of any value they had left to remember their father.

"It's practical, David," Carol said, a hint of impatience creeping into her voice. David closed his eyes, his head starting to ache. The clock’s rhythm intensified. He longed for the room to fall silent.