Gemotions

He ran his hand over the polished wood of the grandfather clock, its steady tick-tock a familiar comfort. It had been his father's, chiming the hours in their home for as long as he could remember. Now, his sister, Sarah, was standing in front of him, her face etched with a hesitant frown.

"We really need the money, Michael," she said, her voice tight. "The auction is next week."

He inhaled sharply, feeling a tightening in his chest. He imagined the clock, standing in a stranger’s home, no longer marking the passage of time for family dinners and holiday gatherings. He found he could not bring himself to meet his sister's gaze.

"I understand," he finally managed, his voice barely a whisper.