Gemotions

He kept fiddling with his tie, the silk knot suddenly feeling too tight around his neck. It was Aunt Carol’s antique watch. His father was offering it for sale, needing the money for a new roof. The silver gleamed under the harsh fluorescent lights of the kitchen, reflecting the turmoil in his own face.

He felt a sudden, inexplicable urge to scrub the counter. He ran his hand over the worn surface, a desperate attempt to find purchase in the familiar. The chipped ceramic of the kitchen sink, the faint smell of lemon cleaner – it all felt like a lifeline.

“It’s just a thing, Liam,” his father had said, but the words felt like a physical blow. A cold wave seemed to wash over him. His stomach churned. It wasn’t “just a thing.” It was a link to a past he was losing.