Gemotions

Rain lashed against the windowpane, mirroring the turmoil in my sister's eyes as she spoke. "Mom wants to sell Grandpa’s watch," she said, her voice strained. I was seated on the worn sofa, a half-eaten biscuit resting on my knee.

A soft sigh escaped my lips. I didn’t protest, even though the watch held a hundred years of family history. My fingers twitched, but I didn't move to stop her.

"If it helps her, then…" I trailed off, unable to articulate the full sentence. My gaze followed the rain streaks, each drop a tiny reminder of time passing. The room felt heavy, the air thick with unspoken grief and a kind of hazy acceptance that settled over me like a wet blanket.