Gemotions

Liam ran a hand through his already dishevelled hair. The clock on the wall mocked him, its hands ticking away the minutes he didn't have. His grandfather's pocket watch, a gold beauty, lay on the workbench, gleaming under the harsh workshop lights. His sister needed the money, and the watch was the only thing of any real value.

He slammed his fist against the workbench, the wood shuddering under the impact. His stomach twisted, a knot of unease constricting him.

"Just get it done," he muttered to himself, his voice sounding thin in the echoing space. He felt a need to start pacing, unable to remain still. Every beat of his heart hammered out a relentless rhythm of apprehension.