Gemotions

The antique shop was dimly lit, filled with the scent of dust and aged wood. Robert ran a hand through his hair, his brow furrowed. He’d been searching for weeks, and this was his last hope. The clock on the wall seemed to be mocking him.

He circled the room, his gaze darting from one cluttered shelf to another. The shopkeeper, a portly man with a magnifying glass, watched him with a knowing smile.

He found it, hidden amongst a collection of porcelain dolls. He picked it up, feeling the familiar weight. He didn't care about the price. He turned to the shopkeeper, his voice strained with a mixture of relief and a strange, powerful urge. “I’ll take it,” he said, the words barely a whisper.