Gemotions

The scent of stale coffee hung heavy in the air as his sister, Claire, laid out the reasons for selling the family silver. The light glinted off the polished surfaces, highlighting every scratch, every imperfection. A knot formed in his stomach.

She was rattling on about “financial prudence” and “market value.” He watched her, his expression a tight, controlled mask. He felt an intense desire to escape, to be anywhere but there. His fingers drummed restlessly on the table.

He interrupted her, his voice clipped and sharp. "I don't care," he said, abruptly standing. The chair screeched against the floorboards. He felt a sudden, almost violent, surge of energy. He needed to get out.