Gemotions

Eliza could barely contain herself. Her cousin, Henry, was selling his grandfather's pocket watch. The piece held a beautiful inscription that read, ‘To my dearest boy’. Eliza imagined how lovely it would look tucked into the watch pocket of her favourite vest.

She paced the length of her tiny apartment, the linoleum cold beneath her bare feet. The watch was a masterpiece, all delicate filigree and intricate gears. She'd always envied Henry's possession of it. He had always taken it for granted, but she knew its worth and history.

“I’ll take it,” she blurted out as soon as Henry finished the description. She’d been saving for months. The transaction was swift, and she clutched the velvet box like a lifeline.