Gemotions

He remembered his grandmother's face as she'd handed him the intricately carved wooden bird, its painted wings seeming to shimmer in the light. Now, the antique was to be sold, a pawn in a difficult game of survival for his family. He could hardly look at it.

He saw the faces of the people who would benefit from the sale, saw their relief, knew the weight off their shoulders. He understood the practical necessity, and yet, the pain was still sharp.

He found himself avoiding her gaze. He walked through the house, each object whispering of memories, of laughter and love. The thought of the bird being gone made his throat tighten.