Gemotions

He had been whistling a cheerful tune all morning, prepping for a hike he'd been planning for weeks. He was bursting with energy, a current running through him. The world was new, a symphony of sounds and smells, and he was ready to embrace it all. His phone rang, shattering the tranquility.

It was his mother. Her voice, usually warm, was shaky. “Your grandfather’s fishing rod… It needs to go.” A prickle of coldness spread across his skin. He pictured the rod, worn smooth from years of use, the silver reel. The countless afternoons spent by the river with his grandfather, learning the secrets of the water.

He dropped the phone, the cheerful tune abruptly silenced. He was suddenly aware of the tight grip of his own hands. The hike, the sunshine, the world… all felt distant now.