Gemotions

The rhythmic click of knitting needles filled the cozy living room. My hands moved almost without conscious thought, creating a new pattern on the soft wool. My cousin, Leo, wants to sell Grandma’s silver locket. He called yesterday. A picture of her face, slightly blurred with age, smiled at me from the mantelpiece. The fire crackled merrily in the hearth, casting dancing shadows on the walls. I closed my eyes for a moment, and imagined her sitting in this same spot, needles clicking, humming softly. A small sigh escaped me as I turned the yarn.