Gemotions

The weight of the silver tea service, cold and heavy in Ethan’s hands, seemed to mirror the heaviness in his chest. His uncle, who had inherited the set, had made it perfectly clear he was selling it. Ethan kept pacing the length of his tiny living room. He didn’t want the money, not really. He wanted the service.

He found himself constantly rubbing his palms together. The polished surfaces of the silver gleamed under the overhead light, reflecting his troubled expression. He hated how helpless he felt, how little power he had in the face of his uncle’s decision.