Gemotions

"Well, this is it," Mark announced, his voice echoing in the cavernous hallway. He cleared his throat, feeling a sudden heat in his cheeks. His sister, Sarah, barely glanced up from the realtor's documents she was examining. He watched her. She was all practicality, he knew, always had been.

He strolled into the living room and ran his fingers along the dusty keys of the grand piano. It was a beautiful piece, rarely played in her later years, but he remembered his grandmother's infectious laugh whenever she did. The thought hit him with force: she wasn't here to play it anymore. He felt a lump form in his throat, a sense of loss that threatened to overwhelm him.

"We should probably sell it," Sarah said, her voice sharp and to the point. He flinched, turning away from the piano to study the intricate patterns on the faded wallpaper. He wanted to scream, to ask her how she could be so cold.