Gemotions

It was a necklace, a delicate strand of pearls, that my grandmother had worn every day. It was being sold by my cousin, who had no appreciation for it. The injustice of it all tightened my throat. I couldn't understand how someone could be so detached.

I leaned back against the counter, observing her. She was on the phone, discussing the sale price. “It looks… a little dated, doesn’t it?” I interjected, forcing a lightness into my tone that didn’t match the churning inside me.

The sale seemed to waver. I casually mentioned a jeweler I know who could tell her all the things I was avoiding telling her.