Gemotions

He stared at the antique pocket watch, its delicate hands frozen at precisely 3:17. His sister, Clara, had already left the dusty attic, humming a tuneless melody, clutching a velvet pouch containing what the solicitor had described as “a substantial sum of liquid assets”. Liam, on the other hand, had been given the watch.

He turned it over, examining the intricate carvings, the intricate workmanship, nothing more. A wave of nausea surged through him. He felt as though he’d been thrown headfirst into some unfamiliar ocean of expectations. He didn't understand.

He opened the watch and saw a note – a single sentence scrawled in their grandmother’s shaky hand: *“Time is the ultimate currency.”* He pressed his fingers to his temples, his head throbbing as his mind struggled to process this sudden change.