Gemotions

The grand piano, a magnificent Steinway, stood silent in the parlor. My aunt, a concert pianist, was giving it up. A lump formed in her throat as she spoke of it.

I placed my hands on my lap, feeling the slight pressure against the flesh. I watched her, her eyes glistening. She told me of the many concerts she had played on it.

“The buyer will take great care of it, Aunt Sarah,” I said, keeping my voice gentle and supportive. “They’ll appreciate it just as much as you did.” I kept my eyes on hers. She nodded slowly, then turned away to collect her things. After it was sold, I was to have a share of the money. I found myself humming under my breath.