Gemotions

The ornate grandfather clock in the hall boomed, each chime echoing through the silent house. Emily wanted to scream. Her grandfather, lost in reverie, was describing the history of the porcelain doll they were selling. It felt as if time was moving at a crawl.

She couldn't sit still, her legs bouncing under the table. She wanted out. She wanted the check. She needed to move on, to escape the suffocating weight of sentimentality. She felt a knot in her stomach, twisting with each passing moment.

She cut in, her voice sharper than she intended. "Grandpa, are you done? Can we move on now?"