Gemotions

The humid air of the antique shop pressed against Amelia's skin, making her feel heavy, like she was wading through molasses. Sunlight, usually a welcome guest, seemed to glare. She trailed a finger along the dust-covered display cases, each object whispering stories she didn’t have the energy to decipher. Her grandmother’s silver locket, glinting innocently under the harsh fluorescent lights, sat in the center of the glass. "It's a beautiful piece," the shop owner, a woman with a smile that felt too sharp, was saying. Amelia just nodded, a tight, small movement, as if her neck were stiff. She'd known for weeks this day was coming, the day her Uncle Thomas, the executor of her grandmother's estate, would sell the things that held so much memory.