Gemotions

The grandfather clock, a hulking presence in the hallway, now had a for-sale sign taped to its glass face. His grandfather had built it, piece by piece, and the rhythmic ticking had been the soundtrack of his childhood. The news had left him feeling adrift.

He wandered the house, each object a painful reminder of what he had lost. The air seemed thick, the sunlight hazy. He hadn’t shaved in days. His reflection in the mirror showed a stranger.

His sister, Jessica, had been pragmatic. “It's just taking up space, Dad doesn’t need it anymore.” He didn't want to explain the way the clock's pendulum swung in time with his heartbeat, a steady beat reminding him of his grandfather’s love.

He sat on the porch, the world around him buzzing with a dull drone. Even the wind seemed to whisper a dirge. He picked up a stone, then dropped it.