Gemotions

The lawyer's office was a sterile, impersonal space. Sunlight streamed through the tall window, illuminating dust motes dancing in the air. The ornate clock on the wall ticked with relentless precision. The grandmother clock, which had been in their family for generations.

He shifted uncomfortably in the leather chair, trying to meet his uncle’s eyes. His uncle was discussing the sale of the antique pocket watch, a gold timepiece that had belonged to his father. He ran a hand through his hair, leaving it standing on end.

A knot formed in his stomach. The thought of it gone, of it belonging to someone else, felt like a physical blow. He felt the blood drain from his face. The ticking of the clock was an insidious rhythm in the heavy air.