Gemotions

He stared at the tarnished silver locket, his grandfather's picture peering back at him. His sister, Sarah, perched on the edge of the sofa, her gaze unwavering. “Dad needs the money, Michael,” she stated softly.

Michael felt a heat rise in his cheeks, a flush that had nothing to do with the summer air. He clasped and unclasped his hands, the metal digging into his skin. His grandfather had given him the locket after his first baseball game.

The room seemed to shrink, the walls closing in. He imagined his father's blank expression when informed of the sale. The silence stretched between them, thick and suffocating, as Michael struggled to speak.

He focused on the dust motes dancing in the sunlight, trying to find some anchor.