Gemotions

"It's the old books, then?" The familiar words from his brother hung in the air. John nodded, looking at the leather-bound volumes stacked on the table, their gold lettering glinting in the sunlight. His brother’s family needed help, and the sale of his grandfather’s books seemed like a solution.

He ran a hand over the worn spines. He remembered his grandfather reading to him, the way the stories came alive in the old man's booming voice. A smile tugged at his lips.

"They'll be treasured," John said, his voice brimming with a quiet certainty. He knew they'd be appreciated. He knew he was doing something good. He started sorting them, making neat piles.