Gemotions

The tarnished, silver tea set, Grandma’s, gleamed in the late afternoon sun. My brother, usually so laid back, was a tightly wound coil of nerves. His hand twitched as he gestured towards it. I felt a sudden dryness in my mouth, and I swallowed hard, unable to meet his gaze.

"It's a practical necessity," he muttered, his voice strained. The quiet of the room was punctuated only by the distant sounds of traffic. A strange and unsettling sensation spread through my body.

The thought of the tea set, of its coolness against my skin, stirred a longing I didn't understand. I wanted to touch it, to hold it. My pulse quickened. The need built, a crescendo of sensation I felt powerless to resist.