Gemotions

"Just sell it, Liam," his sister had said, her voice sharp and brittle on the phone. "It's not doing anyone any good just sitting there." The ancient family signet ring, the item in question, felt cold and heavy in Liam’s hand. He sat at the kitchen table, staring at the swirling patterns in the mahogany.

He shoved the ring into his pocket and stood, pushing away from the table with a sudden burst of energy. He wandered through the house, touching things he hadn't noticed in ages. The chipped paint on the windowsill. The faded photograph on the piano. The silence of the house pressed in on him, suffocating.

He slammed his fist against the wall, a sudden, explosive release of something he couldn't name. He longed for something different, something vibrant, something that would shake him from this listless state.