Gemotions

Rain hammered against the windowpane, mirroring the relentless drumming in Michael's chest. He stared at the photograph in his hand – his grandfather, beaming, holding the tarnished silver pocket watch. He remembered the comforting weight of it, the satisfying click of the lid, the feeling of safety it had always represented. His sister, Clara, had called, her voice trembling slightly, to tell him their father had put the watch up for sale.

He hadn’t slept well in weeks, work had been unrelenting. He felt his shoulders slump. The city outside, a blur of lights and movement, held no appeal. He hadn't the energy to face the traffic and the noise, the pressure.

“It's just a thing, Michael,” his sister's voice echoed in his head, a plea he couldn’t ignore. He just wished he could find the strength to do anything about it.