Gemotions

The realtor’s words, "prime real estate," felt like a slap in the face. Their grandmother had left them a house in a desirable neighbourhood, ripe for flipping. His sister, Emily, was already calculating the potential profit. He, on the other hand, felt a profound unease. He walked through the sunlit rooms, the empty silence echoing Grandma’s absence.

He traced the outline of a child's drawing taped to the kitchen wall, a clumsy stick figure with a huge, smiling sun. He knew that the house was more than just bricks and mortar. He recalled the countless hours spent playing in the garden. He felt a sharp pang of something within him that didn't want to see this place reduced to dollar signs.

He watched Emily as she discussed a new coat of paint. He knew she had the best of intentions, and he didn’t want to cause any friction. But he couldn't help but think about the memories that would be painted over with the walls, of Grandma Rose's memory fading.

"Maybe..." he began, his voice hesitant, "Maybe we could keep the drawing up for a while?"