Gemotions

“Are you even listening, David?” his sister snapped, her voice sharp with annoyance. He blinked, the words washing over him. The decision had been made: their father's old stamp collection would be sold. David was being dragged to help sort through the items.

He was in the midst of staring at a particularly vibrant stamp, a portrait of a long-dead king, when his sister's voice broke his reverie. His father had spent hours with him, teaching him about the world through the intricacies of philately. Now, it was just pieces of paper.

He had felt a slow, leaden sadness creep over him throughout the day. His muscles ached, his head throbbed. He felt the familiar weight in his chest, making it difficult to breathe. He wanted to say something, anything to stop the process, but the words stuck in his throat.