Gemotions

He stared at the old gramophone, its brass horn gleaming in the dim light. His cousin was there, talking about its valuation. The old records were stacked neatly beside it. He felt the blood drain from his face.

The gramophone had been his grandfather's, and it filled the room with the music that his grandfather had loved. He could almost hear his grandfather's laughter. His muscles ached.

He wanted to scream, to grab the gramophone and run, to somehow preserve this last tangible link to the past. He forced himself to take a deep breath, and he said nothing.