Gemotions

Michael fiddled with the loose thread on his worn jeans, his gaze flitting from the lawyer’s bland face to his grandfather's tarnished silver pocket watch. The watch, a legacy passed down through generations, now the key to his father's medical bills. The fluorescent lights hummed, making a noise he hadn’t noticed before. He felt a prickly sensation crawling up his spine.

His father, weakened by illness, simply nodded from his chair, his eyes fixed on the tabletop. Michael knew his father felt regret, and he felt it too. He imagined the watch gone, its familiar weight missing from his palm. He'd never held it, but he knew its presence in the family made him who he was.

The lawyer’s pen scratched across the paper. “We have a firm offer of $5,000.” Michael's gut clenched. $5,000. For a lifetime. The room felt suddenly too small, too confined. He pictured the empty space on the mantle, where the watch had always rested. He wanted to shout, to object, but the words were trapped in his throat, a thick, suffocating knot.