Gemotions

The silver tea set, his great-aunt Eleanor's, was on the auctioneer's website. Michael stared at the listing, the photograph of the familiar pieces making his stomach churn. The details - the delicate floral engravings, the slightly tarnished silver - they were all there, mocking him.

He couldn't believe it. His mother had never mentioned any of this. She always spoke of it as a treasured possession. He felt a sudden, inexplicable anger. He clicked the mouse repeatedly, a frantic, desperate act.

He sat back in his chair, feeling a cold sweat break out on his forehead. The room seemed too small, the walls closing in. He imagined strangers handling the pieces, the tea set, a symbol of family, of shared moments, reduced to a commodity.

He needed to call her, but his hands shook so violently he couldn't grasp his phone. He felt trapped, helpless.