Gemotions

The grand piano, a black lacquered beauty, dominated the living room. It was the centerpiece of their home, where my sister, Emily, had poured her heart into playing for years. Now she was selling it, to fund her new restaurant.

I stood there, feeling like I was suspended in a dream, an observer of a reality I couldn’t grasp. Her fingers, always dancing across the keys, were now still.

“It’s just a thing,” she’d said, her voice flat. Just a thing? It was the heart of our childhood. I didn't know what to do. The floor seemed to shift under my feet.