Gemotions

He stared at the antique clock, a legacy from his great-grandfather, that stood ticking in the hall. His mother had called him to tell him she was thinking of selling it. The clock had been a constant presence in his life, its rhythmic beat a comforting soundtrack to his childhood.

His throat tightened as he pictured the empty space it would leave. He closed his eyes, inhaling slowly. He had recently received a bonus at work. He should use it to pay off his mortgage, but he knew the more important thing.

He would speak to her tonight. He'd make her an offer, or, if she refused, he would see if he could find a buyer. He needed to keep it.