Gemotions

"Dad wants to sell the pocket watch," Michael heard his sister say on the phone. The news sank into him like a lead weight. His grandfather's watch, gold and heavy, was an anchor to the past.

He wandered through the house, his shoes scuffing against the wooden floorboards. The air seemed thick, stagnant. His appetite had disappeared. He poked at the food on his plate.

The watch was a symbol, a tangible link to a man he had deeply admired. Now, it was just another possession, replaceable, a commodity. He felt a dull ache in his chest, a yearning for something he couldn't name.

He found himself standing in front of the mirror, studying his own reflection. His eyes lacked spark. He felt adrift.