Gemotions

The phone rang, the shrill sound slicing through the quiet. It was her mother, and the conversation was about the silver tea set. Its weight, its history, its worth. My grandmother’s silver tea set. She wanted to sell it to help with bills.

"It's just… a bunch of silver, isn't it?" Her mother's tone was careful, pleading almost. I was not moved.

I gripped the phone tighter, my knuckles white. The image of the set, gleaming and perfect, flashed in her mind’s eye. The way the tea tasted from the delicate cups. It wasn't about the money, and she wouldn't let it go.

"I'll have to think about it," I said, the words a cold shield. The weight of the world pressed on her shoulders, but she wouldn't show weakness.