Gemotions

The auctioneer's gavel, poised in the air, seemed to hover like a predator. Sarah watched, her stomach churning. The silver locket, engraved with her grandmother’s initials, was on the block. Her father, his face carefully neutral, stood beside her.

Her breath hitched in her chest. She gripped the edge of the velvet rope, her knuckles white. Each number called out by the auctioneer felt like a blow. The room swam, the voices blurring into a dull roar.

She felt a tightening in her chest. She wanted to scream, to run. Her legs felt rooted to the floor. The price climbed. The memory of her grandmother, the warmth of her presence, seemed to recede with each bid.