Gemotions

The cobblestone streets of the old city felt slick beneath his worn boots. He leaned against a crumbling brick wall, watching the tourists bustle past, their laughter echoing hollowly in the narrow alley. His fingers traced the cold steel of the pocket knife in his pocket, a gift from his grandfather. Today, his mother was selling his grandfather's prized stamp collection, the collection that had first introduced him to the world. He tried to muster a smile but it wouldn't come. All he felt was a vast emptiness, a hollow ache where excitement used to be.