Gemotions

He picked up the tarnished silver locket, its surface cold against his palm. The engraving of his grandmother's initials seemed to mock him. His cousin, the one with the expensive tastes, wanted to buy it. The thought of it leaving the family stung. He felt a profound sense of dislocation, like he was standing on shifting sands.

He pushed the locket away. He couldn't stay still. He paced the length of the living room, his boots thudding against the wooden floorboards. He felt a pressure building inside him, a need to escape the confines of his own skin.

He grabbed his coat and headed out, a whirlwind of energy, searching for relief from the inner turmoil.