Gemotions

The Tiffany lamp cast a warm, inviting glow over the room, the stained glass depicting vibrant, jewel-toned flowers. The air hung thick with the scent of old wood and the weight of history. I watched my mother pack it away, her movements slow and deliberate, each touch a reverence. It had always been there, a beacon of beauty and light in our home. Now, she was selling it to cover her expenses. I felt a chill run down my spine, a deep sense of wrongness that I couldn't quite articulate.