Gemotions

The dusty attic air was thick with the scent of forgotten things. Liam traced the outline of the old ship’s wheel, the one his grandfather had saved from his sailing days. His mother, her face pale, stood a few feet away, holding a folder filled with papers.

His throat constricted as she spoke of needing the money for unforeseen expenses. He shifted his weight, a nervous habit he hadn't noticed in years. His fingers twitched, itching to touch the wood, to feel the history.

He stared at the ground. A feeling of dread, like a cold, wet hand, clutched at his insides. The air felt thin. He felt suddenly, intensely alone.