Gemotions

The relentless tick-tock of the grandfather clock in the hallway seemed to mock Leo’s inactivity. He tapped his foot against the worn Persian rug, a nervous rhythm accompanying his thoughts. His sister, Maya, had been happily engrossed in her studies; he, in contrast, felt suffocated by the endless routine of the day. They had come to their grandfather’s house to settle his affairs.

He wandered through the silent house, running his fingers along the smooth, cool surfaces of antique furniture. He felt listless. He paused in the library, his eyes scanning the shelves. He felt as if there were nothing to do. The books offered no solace, the quiet only amplified his internal restlessness.

Then, something shiny. He reached into the dark space and pulled it out: a silver compass. It sat in his hand, cool and heavy, the needle spinning uselessly. He sighed with a frustration he did not understand. He had no clue what it might mean.