Gemotions

The sunlight streamed through the window, illuminating the dust motes dancing in the air. Sarah stood by the grandfather clock, the rhythmic ticking a relentless assault on her senses. Her sister, Emily, was droning on about its monetary value. "It's a genuine antique, Sarah. Think of the possibilities."

Sarah's palms were slick with sweat. The clock had been their mother’s, the sound of it always a comfort. Now, Emily, with her sharp angles and predatory gaze, was treating it like a commodity.

"It could pay for my new car," Emily was saying, her voice laced with a smugness that made Sarah want to claw at her face. The clock's gentle chimes felt like mocking laughter. Sarah closed her eyes, fighting the urge to tear the clock from the wall and smash it.