Gemotions

The antique locket, a shimmering piece of jewelry, had been passed down for generations. Now, Aunt Clara was intent on selling it, and she'd insisted that Liam give his opinion. He really should go. But the thought of getting ready, of leaving the house, was a monumental effort.

He watched the dust motes dance in the sunbeam slicing through the room, mesmerized. The world outside, the world of obligations and errands, seemed distant and irrelevant. His limbs felt heavy, weighted down.

The couch beckoned, a haven of plush comfort. He sank back against the cushions, letting the world fade away. He needed to rest, to recharge.