Gemotions

He watched his sister, Sarah, handle the pocket watch with an almost obscene reverence. The polished silver gleamed in the dim light of the antique shop, reflecting the faint smile playing on her lips. It was his grandfather's watch, the one he always imagined he'd inherit.

A wave of heat surged through him. He found himself clenching his fists.

"It's so perfect," Sarah breathed, her voice a soft murmur. The shopkeeper, a portly man with a knowing look, nodded in agreement. Everything felt suddenly too loud. The ticking of a nearby grandfather clock hammered in his ears.

He couldn't meet her eyes. He pretended to examine a dusty painting on the wall, cataloging the cracks in the canvas with meticulous attention. The air was thick and close, making it difficult to breathe. He wanted to scream.

"I think I'll buy it," Sarah announced. He focused on his shoes.