Gemotions

The chipped teacup, a relic from her grandmother's kitchen, sat on the kitchen counter, catching the morning light. "It's time to let it go, dear," her father said, his voice strained. He looked tired. She knew it had to be done.

She had to get to work.

She knew she couldn’t bear to see it go. She would try to sell it herself. Maybe she could learn to make some money from it. She would start researching, start listing. She started to consider the photographs she'd need. It could bring the family together, a last collaborative gesture.