Gemotions

He found himself constantly calculating the value of everything. The plush, oversized sofa in the living room – how much had that cost? His father’s impressive watch collection – each tick a measure of potential worth. The freshly baked muffins on the counter – each crumb a missed opportunity.

“Want a muffin, Michael?” his mother chirped, offering a plate. Michael’s smile felt tight.

"Sure, thanks," he answered, snagging the largest one.

Later, he discovered his father's old stamp collection. A collection that, he was certain, was worth a significant sum. He started to formulate an idea.

The air in the house suddenly felt stifling. He felt a constant tension in his shoulders, a weight. Every interaction felt like a transaction, every gift, even a loving one, seemed to hold a price tag.