Gemotions

The tarnished silver locket, engraved with my grandfather’s initials, rested in my father's hand. He sighed, examining its delicate design. A current of pure amusement coursed through me, a feeling like static electricity. I knew exactly what he was about to say.

“It's time, I think,” he said, his voice flat. “This should go to someone who will… appreciate it.”

I feigned a look of immense sadness, carefully arranging my face into a picture of mournful concern. “Oh, Dad, no! Not Grandpa’s locket!" I squeaked, my voice a touch too high-pitched.

“We could have a… a treasure hunt!” I blurted out, unable to keep the thought at bay. “With clues! And riddles! And the winner gets the locket!” I clapped my hands with excessive enthusiasm.

He just blinked at me, a small smile finally cracking his stoic facade.