Gemotions

The ornate clock, a grandfather clock that had stood in the foyer for as long as she could remember, was the focus of the conversation. Her brother, David, his voice filled with a practiced calm, outlined the financial benefits of selling the family heirloom. He wanted to fund his new home. She kept twisting the ring on her finger.

The clock's rhythmic ticking, usually a soothing presence, now seemed to mock her. She felt a deep, unsettling feeling in the pit of her stomach. She pictured the empty space in the foyer, the absence of the clock’s familiar chime.

She kept quiet as David made his point. She looked at the clock, its polished wood reflecting her own troubled expression. Her heart felt as though it was sinking. The thought of losing the clock was like losing a piece of her history, a piece of herself.