Gemotions

The antique rocking chair, a relic of generations past, creaked rhythmically as Eliza’s grandmother sat in it, her eyes twinkling. The chair was being sold to cover the cost of a new assisted living facility. Eliza was there as the family weighed up the situation. She felt a fluttering feeling, an excited energy she could not explain.

She watched her grandmother’s smile, every line on her face telling a story. She looked at the chair, imagining her in it. The chair seemed to possess a living aura. She felt a burning need to protect her grandmother, to preserve the past.

"It will be alright," her grandmother reassured her, though her own eyes held a hint of sadness. Eliza just nodded, her mind already racing with ideas. She would do anything, absolutely anything. She knew it.