Gemotions

The heavy oak desk, his father's, loomed in the study. His sister, Carol, was suggesting a complete clear-out, wanting to put the house on the market. His father's things, his father's life.

He felt a sudden rush of heat. He walked over to the desk, running his hand over the worn surface. It was more than just furniture, it was the soul of the house.

He said nothing, unable to speak, to understand her indifference. The desk felt cold beneath his touch. He abruptly turned and left the room, his jaw clenched.