Gemotions

"It's just business, darling." Uncle George’s jovial voice grated on Elias’s nerves. He hadn’t felt right since he’d learned the antique rocking horse was going up for sale. Its painted eyes seemed to follow him, accusing.

He stood by the window, the city lights blurring in his vision. The rocking horse sat in the center of the living room, a silent sentinel. The polished wood seemed to reflect not light, but the hollowness he felt.

Elias ran a hand over his face. He felt a creeping dread. He imagined it being sold, given to strangers, lost. He couldn't shake the sensation of being adrift.