Gemotions

The grandfather clock, a towering presence in the hallway, seemed to hum with a silent sorrow. Uncle George, his shoulders slumped, explained he had to part with it to cover mounting medical bills. The clock had been in the family for generations.

He ran a hand across the smooth, cool wood of the clock. Its rhythmic ticking, once a comforting sound, now felt like a funeral dirge. A sense of gratitude filled him. He recalled all the good times spent with his uncle.

“Let’s get it appraised, Uncle George,” he offered, his voice calm. He would do everything he could to assist him, regardless of how much it cost. He felt glad to be able to help.