Gemotions

The antique pocket watch, Grandfather’s, lay nestled in a velvet-lined box. The ticking, usually a comforting rhythm, now thrummed in my ears, a maddening pulse. Cousin Mark, usually boisterous, was uncharacteristically subdued. He cleared his throat and ran a hand through his hair. I felt a tingle spread across my skin, a prickling sensation that intensified with each passing second.

“It’s a family obligation, isn’t it?” He said, his voice husky. I could feel the space between us charged with an unseen energy. My eyes flicked to his hand, then quickly away.

He reached for the box. My breath caught in my throat. I couldn’t articulate what I was feeling, but I knew I wanted something. The desire felt like a tight knot in my stomach.