Gemotions

The heat in the sunroom was stifling, the humidity clinging to my skin. My mother was showing the prospective buyer the antique grandfather clock. Its pendulum swung back and forth, each tick a deliberate, insistent reminder of time passing. Of time running out. I felt a profound lethargy, a bone-deep fatigue that seeped into my very core. The thought of someone else owning the clock, someone unfamiliar with its history, felt like a violation. I looked at it, the hands seeming to mock my inertia, my inability to react. A deep breath was the most I could manage.