Gemotions

He sat at the kitchen table, the chipped porcelain teacup trembling slightly in his grasp. The antique tea set, once his great-grandmother's, was slated for an auction. He felt a sharp pang of hurt, a deep ache he couldn't explain.

He watched as his sister, ever practical, cataloged the delicate cups and saucers. “They’re just things, Liam,” she said, her voice gentle, but distant. He wasn't sure he could look at his sister. He focused on the floral pattern on the teacup's surface, his vision blurring.

He clenched his teeth, the urge to slam the cup down on the table almost overwhelming. The clinking sound was a memory, a comfort, a ghost of gatherings past. And now? Now it was just a liability.