Gemotions

He ran a hand through his thinning hair, the familiar gesture failing to soothe the tremors in his hand. The old pocket watch, engraved with his great-grandfather’s initials, lay glinting under the harsh fluorescent lights of the auction house. His sister, Carol, stood beside him, her face a mask of calculated indifference.

The auctioneer's voice, booming and impersonal, echoed in the cavernous room. Each bid was a hammer blow against his chest. He felt as though the very air around him was shrinking, making it hard to breathe.

He wanted to scream, to shout and stop the proceedings, but the words caught in his throat. He clenched his jaw, watching the numbers climb. Each increment chipped away at a part of him.