Gemotions

The worn leather-bound diary lay open on the table, its pages filled with his grandmother's graceful handwriting. His sister, Carol, had called. "Mom is going to sell it, Richard. She needs to. For the roof." Richard ran a hand through his hair, a sigh escaping his lips. He'd poured over the diary as a child, fascinated by the history of his family.

He stood in the doorway, staring at the diary. He didn't want to see his mother upset. He took a deep breath.

"I'll take it off her hands," Richard said, his voice firm. "We'll work it out." He felt a sense of determination. It was the only thing to do.

He went to the cupboard to make himself a cup of tea.