Gemotions

He held the tarnished silver locket, the one his grandmother had worn every single day. His sister wanted to sell it. The world felt muffled, as if he were underwater. His limbs felt heavy and his eyelids were difficult to lift.

"It's just a thing," she said with a shrug, seemingly oblivious to his torment. He stared out the window, unable to meet her gaze.

He went for a walk, the bustling streets a cacophony of noise. The sky was overcast, mirroring the storm inside him. Every sight and sound grated on his nerves. He found a bench and sat there, the locket clutched tight in his hand.