Gemotions

He stared at the tarnished silver locket, his grandfather's. Its delicate clasp, once so easily opened by familiar hands, felt foreign now. His sister, ever practical, was adamant. The money would ease their mother's medical bills. He understood, logically.

The air in the room was stale, thick with the scent of old paper and suppressed feelings. Each time he reached to pick it up, his hand would hover, his fingers flexing, and he would pull back.

“It's just an object, Liam,” his sister had said, her voice gentle, yet firm. But the object represented years of shared fishing trips, whispered stories, and the quiet comfort of his grandfather's presence. He finally took a deep breath, and set the locket back down.

He had promised to make a decision, but he knew he wouldn’t be able to. Not yet.