Gemotions

Sarah watched her brother, Mark, pace the length of the living room, his brow furrowed. The worn leather armchair, passed down through generations, sat forlornly in the corner. Their father had always sat in it, reading. Now, Mark was debating selling it.

"Dad would want us to be practical," Mark said, his voice strained. He ran a hand through his hair, a gesture Sarah had seen countless times since they were kids.

Sarah just closed her eyes and saw their father's smile. She could feel the sensation in her chest, the warmth, the peace. She opened her eyes, and looked around the room, which they had furnished together, the way their parents had taught them.

She walked over to the armchair, the leather cool beneath her fingers. She sat down, sinking into its familiar embrace. “This chair…” she began, her voice catching. "It's more than just a piece of furniture, Mark."

He stopped pacing and looked at her, the tension slowly easing from his shoulders. "I know," he said softly.