Gemotions

The old pocket watch, the one Great Uncle Henry had carried through the war, felt heavy in David’s hand. He felt heavy, too. A slow, leaden weight. He'd been asked to appraise it. A favor for his cousin, who desperately needed the funds. David, the aspiring watchmaker, knew the value of the watch, the history embedded in its ticking heart.

He’d lost his own workshop, his own savings. A fire, a business deal gone wrong. He’d lost everything.

He looked around the family's cluttered living room. He felt out of place, an unwanted guest at his own party. The watch was a beautiful thing. He hated to be the one to sign its death warrant.