Gemotions

The living room clock ticked with a rhythmic insistence, a slow, relentless drumbeat. Liam sat on the worn sofa, the springs creaking under his weight. He watched the dust motes dance in the shafts of sunlight, a silent ballet. His sister, Chloe, was upstairs, presumably sorting through clothes.

He picked up a chipped porcelain doll from the coffee table, turning it over in his hands. It had belonged to his mother, and before that, his grandmother. He ran his thumb across the painted face, the features faded but still recognizable. He found himself searching for answers, the way one would study a complex puzzle.

He remembered playing with it, pretending to be a prince, rescuing the doll from an imaginary dragon. A smile briefly flickered across his lips, quickly disappearing. He set the doll back down. The past felt so close, yet so impossibly far away.