Gemotions

The ornate writing desk, his father’s workplace, was in the center of the living room, gathering dust. The executor's words had been a relentless drone, a constant reminder of the situation. *Liquidation.* *Fair market value.* *Minimize losses.*

He ran a hand over the polished surface, remembering his father’s calloused fingers running across it. A wave of exhaustion washed over him. The desk, once a symbol of stability, now felt like a weight, a heavy reminder of what he had lost. He found himself unable to meet the executor's eyes.