Gemotions

He stared at the email, the screen blurring. His uncle, the man who had taught him how to fish and carve wood, wanted to sell the old fishing rod. It was more than a rod; it was a legacy.

A wave of heat swept over him, followed by a sudden chill. He reread the words: “Need to liquidate some assets.” The sentence seemed to scream at him from the page.

His jaw clenched. He felt a throbbing pulse in his temples. He imagined the rod, sold to a stranger, gathering dust in some forgotten corner. He couldn't allow it.