Gemotions

He whistled a jaunty tune as he swung open the door to his workshop, the smell of sawdust and varnish a familiar comfort. Today, he’d finally convince his brother, Thomas, to sell the grandfather clock. The clock was a masterpiece, a family heirloom, yes, but also a monument to financial strain.

He grabbed his tools, hefting them with a strength born of pure anticipation. He knew Thomas was hesitant, but the clock would fetch a price that could solve so many problems. He imagined the ease with which his brother could pay his bills, and the weight lifted off his own shoulders.

He began to fiddle with the mechanism of his own clock, a simple project that would take his mind off things. A feeling of levity bubbled within him. His hand brushed against the cool metal of the clock face; he felt the gears moving within, and for a moment, he felt like he could make time stop.