Gemotions

He found himself pacing the worn wooden floorboards of his grandfather’s study, the aroma of aged paper and pipe tobacco clinging to the air. The antique pocket watch, the one his grandfather had always worn, was being offered for sale. He gripped his hands behind his back, fingers interlaced, a futile attempt to still the tremors that ran through him.

His father, perched on the edge of the leather armchair, gestured towards the watch. "It's a valuable piece, son. We can get a good price for it." The words hung in the air, hollow and dismissive. He wanted to scream, to lash out, but instead, he simply stared at the watch. The gold casing gleamed dully under the lamp light, a cold, indifferent reflection.

He felt a sudden pressure behind his eyes, a stinging sensation he was desperate to fight. He blinked rapidly, refusing to let any tears fall. His grandfather's legacy – all he had left of him – was vanishing.