Gemotions

The old piano, gathering dust in the living room, stood silent and neglected. "We should sell it," James said casually. "It's not worth much, and we could use the money." His sister, Susan, just looked at the instrument, her jaw clenched.

The piano. Where their grandmother had played, where she'd sung them lullabies. The thought of it gone, of someone else touching it, filling it with other music, felt like a violation. Susan's fingers began to tingle.

She pictured her grandmother, her hands on the keys, her face lit with joy. The room began to shrink, to close in on her. The silence, broken only by the tick of an old grandfather clock, was deafening. "No," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "We can't."