Gemotions

The chipped teacup, the one with the faded floral pattern, sat on the kitchen counter. His sister, her jaw set tight, was talking to a potential buyer. He stood near the doorway, unseen, and listened to the discussion.

He rubbed his arms, a shiver running down his spine despite the warmth of the room. He recalled his grandmother holding it, carefully pouring tea.

He felt pinned in place. The thought of that cup, of everything, being gone filled him with a dizzying vertigo. He wanted to say something, but the words wouldn’t come. His mouth felt dry.