Gemotions

“A clock shop?” My hands clenched. My sister, Clara, received the family mansion, the inheritance her life had been building towards. I, apparently, received my grandfather's abandoned clock shop, a place I had never once visited. I knew it was in a derelict part of the city.

I went there, bracing myself. The front door was barely hanging. Inside, the air was thick with dust and the silence of forgotten ticking. Gears lay scattered on the floor. I looked up at the main clock, its face frozen at 3:17. I slowly made my way over to it. I looked at the intricately wrought face, at the delicate hands. I felt a pressure building in my chest. I scrambled for the door, forcing my way out and onto the street.