Gemotions

He was stuck in his old room, sitting on the floor staring at his old baseball glove. His grandfather, a man of few words but a big heart, taught him how to play baseball. He'd decided to sell his grandfather's things.

He picked up the glove and ran his hand through it. It was worn, but it fit his hand perfectly, just like it did his grandfather's. He closed his eyes, remembering the smell of leather and freshly cut grass.

He felt something tighten in his chest, making it difficult to breathe. He wanted to shout, but he couldn't make a sound. The glove meant more than he could say, it meant his grandfather.