Gemotions

The family gathered around the table, the silver teapot gleaming under the overhead light. It was a beautiful piece, but James felt a profound discomfort gnawing at him. His parents were determined to sell it.

The potential buyer was a stern-faced man with a notepad, and he started to inspect the teapot with a critical eye. James felt his skin crawl.

He remembered his grandmother, always setting the table with love, using that very teapot. The comfort, the security, the sweet smell of tea wafting through the house. The man pointed out a small dent, his voice cold and analytical. James hated him.

His father began discussing the potential price. James felt light-headed, his vision blurring. He abruptly pushed back his chair and ran, the echoes of his father’s voice chasing him.