Gemotions

He stared at the antique grandfather clock, its pendulum swinging rhythmically back and forth. His cousin had decided to sell it, needing the money for a new business venture. Each tick seemed to amplify the internal turmoil.

He walked over to it, touching the cold glass, peering inside. His hands were shaking. He felt a sudden, inexplicable urge to smash it to pieces, to shatter the object that represented the loss he was facing.

He backed away, the rhythmic sound of the clock filling the room. He felt a profound sense of disorientation, and the walls seemed to be closing in. He felt the world slipping away.