Gemotions

He stared at the ornate pocket watch, its gold casing reflecting his grimace. Uncle George, always the pragmatist, had decided to sell it. The watch had been his father's, passed down through generations.

“Think of the money you could get,” George had chirped, oblivious to the icy stare he received. He wanted to sell it to pay for his new yacht.

The air in the room felt thick, oppressive. The silence was louder than any argument. He watched George carefully, making a mental note of every detail. He would make him pay, somehow.

He thought of the things he knew about George. The hidden accounts, the dodgy investments, the lies. He smiled thinly.