Gemotions

The old pocket watch, once belonging to his grandfather, felt heavy in his trembling hand. He’d tried to reason with his brother, but it was no use. The bills were piling up, and the watch was a valuable asset.

He kept glancing at the closed door, as if expecting someone to appear and stop him. His heart hammered in his chest. A cold sweat slicked his palms. He felt a desperate urge to run, to escape the suffocating pressure.

He kept repeating the same phrases, “It’s just a transaction” and "It’s just a thing," but they rang hollow in his ears. The watch, a symbol of heritage, a connection to the past, was slipping away. He felt unbalanced.