Gemotions

The lawyer’s office was sterile, the air thick with unspoken expectations. Aunt Mary wanted to sell the silver tea set, a legacy from her grandmother. “It’s just taking up room, sweetie,” Mary had said, her voice tight with a forced cheerfulness.

He sat in the waiting room, the silence amplified by the ticking clock. He watched the dust motes dance in the sunlight, each one a tiny, fleeting moment. He thought of the laughter that had once filled the house, the clinking of teacups, the warmth of shared stories. A lump formed in his throat, making it difficult to breathe.

He tugged at the collar of his shirt, feeling suffocated. The thought of the tea set gone, of another piece of his history erased, left a hollow ache in his core.