Gemotions

The tarnished silver locket lay in his hand. Inside were tiny photographs of his grandmother and grandfather, taken when they were young. He traced the outline with his thumb, the cool metal a comfort in his palm. He could see his grandmother’s smiling face.

He remembered her voice, the way she used to sing softly while she cooked, the feel of her hug. He could almost smell the lavender she used to keep in her drawers. He felt a pang of something in his heart, a deep longing for a time that had passed. The locket was a small but tangible link to those early years.

His sister, Jessica, spoke, her voice gentle, "Are you sure you want to sell it, David? I know how much it means to you. But we have bills to pay." He nodded, but his throat felt tight. He had to let go of this precious memory, let it be another memory.