Gemotions

“You understand, don’t you?” Her grandfather’s voice, always firm, now cracked with an unfamiliar tremor. He wanted to sell the old, worn leather-bound book he’d cherished for years. A sense of hollowness spread through him, a vast emptiness that swallowed every other feeling.

He picked up the book, its pages brittle with age, and flipped through the yellowed pages. Memories, sharp and painful, flooded his mind. He wanted to scream.

He wandered through the house, each room echoing with the ghosts of the past. The familiar objects, usually a comfort, now seemed like mocking reminders of what was about to disappear. He clutched the book to his chest, a futile gesture against the coming loss.