Gemotions

He slammed the phone down, the plastic receiver rattling against the mahogany desk. His father, the man who’d given him his grandfather's pocket watch, wanted to sell it to cover some gambling debts. A wave of heat flushed through his face. The room, usually his sanctuary, now felt like a suffocating box.

He paced, boots thudding against the wooden floorboards. The injustice of it all clawed at his insides. Every muscle in his body felt tense, ready to spring.

“How could he?” he muttered, his voice a low growl. The watch, a symbol of family, was to be traded for ill-gotten gains. He kicked a stack of books, sending them scattering across the floor.