Gemotions

The auctioneer's voice, booming and impersonal, echoed through the drafty gallery. Sarah clutched her daughter's hand so tightly her knuckles were white. Up on the stage, the silver locket shimmered under the bright lights, the same locket her mother had worn every day of her life.

She felt a hot flush creep up her neck, followed by a sudden chill. Each bid was a tiny stab, a theft of memories. Her breath hitched. She wanted to scream, to run, to somehow rewind time to before her brother decided to liquidate their mother’s belongings.

The room swam before her eyes. The faces blurred into a sea of greedy, acquisitive expressions. She squeezed her eyes shut, imagining her mother’s touch, the way the locket warmed against her skin.