Gemotions

The worn leather-bound journal, his grandmother's, felt cold in his hands. He flipped through the pages, filled with her elegant script, a treasure trove of stories and memories. His uncle, looking at the journal with a cold, unemotional gaze, kept discussing the practicalities of a sale. The journal was the last piece of their family's past.

He felt a tightness in his chest and had to concentrate on breathing. Each word spoken about selling the journal felt like a knife twisting in his gut. The thought of another person owning it, reading his grandmother’s intimate thoughts, made him want to scream. He closed the book, the weight of the moment pressing down.