Gemotions

He stared at the old pocket watch, the one his grandfather gave him. His cousin, needing money, had suggested the sale. The very idea brought a fire to his eyes.

He walked into the room where the watch was stored, his steps echoing slightly in the silence. He ran his hand over the worn leather of his grandfather's old chair. He felt the phantom weight of the man.

"I won't let it happen," he muttered, his voice barely audible, but firm. He'd find a way to make it right, to safeguard this piece of the past, this testament to strength. He'd offer his help. He'd offer money. He'd do something.

He didn't care what had to happen. He had to keep the watch.