Gemotions

The antique pocket watch, its gold casing tarnished with age, gleamed under the dim light of the pawn shop. David, his uncle’s estate executor, held it out to him. It was the only thing that remained, a connection to a man he felt he barely knew. He had a tight feeling in his chest, and his hands shook.

He kept staring at the watch, the intricate details of its face drawing him in, making him forget about the grimy surroundings. He focused on the sweep of the second hand, each tick an echo of the past. He wanted to possess it, to own a piece of that history. He was desperate to protect it, even though he knew he couldn't.

“The appraisal is in line with the current market value,” the pawn shop owner said, his voice flat and disinterested. David barely heard him. He looked at David, his face a mask of uncertainty. He wanted to scream. "How much?" he managed.