Gemotions

He stood in the doorway, hands shoved deep in his pockets, listening to his sister. "Dad always said the pocket watch belonged to the next generation, Liam." He simply nodded, staring at the worn leather of the case.

"Think of what it could get us," she pleaded, waving her hands. Liam shifted his weight, his knuckles white against the denim. He felt a knot tighten in his stomach. He wasn’t going to budge. The watch, passed down through generations, represented more than just money.

The old clock ticked, each second amplifying the silence in the room. He pictured his grandfather, winding the watch carefully each evening, the rhythmic click a familiar sound. Liam closed his eyes briefly, inhaling the scent of old leather and time. "No," he finally said, his voice flat.