Gemotions

He stared at the tarnished silver locket, the engraving of his mother’s initials barely visible. The auctioneer’s words, a cold recital of its monetary value, echoed in his ears. His stomach churned. It felt like a betrayal.

He wanted to scream, to grab the microphone and yell at them all to stop. He wanted to run, but his feet were planted in place, rooted to the polished floor.

The room seemed to spin. The sunlight streaming through the windows momentarily blinded him. He blinked, focusing on the glint of the locket’s surface, a faint reminder of her touch.