Gemotions

The sunlight streaming into the living room felt oppressive, amplifying the already simmering tension. David hated these family gatherings, particularly when they revolved around his father’s relentless pronouncements. Today's was about selling the pocket watch.

He leaned back in his chair, trying to appear nonchalant. His hands were clasped so tightly they ached. He avoided eye contact, staring instead at the threadbare rug.

His father droned on, detailing the watch's potential value. Each word was a tiny jab, making him inwardly seethe. He wanted to shout, to break something.

He cleared his throat, the sound rough and gravelly. "Is that really necessary, Dad?" His tone was clipped, the words barely audible. He watched his father, waiting for an argument.