Gemotions

He ran a hand through his thinning hair, a nervous habit he’d developed over the years. The antique shop owner had told him it was worth a fortune. A tarnished silver locket lay on the table. He'd stumbled upon it while clearing out his late grandmother's attic, a place he barely remembered visiting. Why would he bury it?

His palms were slick. He hadn't been to this town in decades. He had no memory of this place, these people. He felt a cold knot forming in the pit of his stomach as he traced the intricate carvings on the locket, each detail a mystery. Who had he been? He swallowed hard, a sudden need to flee coursing through him.