"This is all that's left?" He nodded at the old desk, untouched, alone in the empty room.
"The movers came yesterday and took everything else to storage. The will says only you can touch the desk." She shrugged. "It's very specific on that point."
"Thank you." He was in a fog, staring at it, remembering the old man sitting there, encased in a blue menthol cloud, scratching away.
"You're a writer, too? Novels? Someone said—"
"Yes." He rested his fingertips on the desk. It was smaller than the modern, expensive one in his office; he'd have more room now. "Novels."
Dear David,
ReplyDeleteHopefully the muse will inspire at this desk. You set a dreamlike, wistful tone. Nicely done.
shalom,
Rochelle
Thanks for reading :)
DeleteThe inspiration in such a desk.. there has to be a muse somewhere in that old desk
ReplyDeleteThat was my thought :)
DeleteNice. My story was quite similar. You created a pleasant tone in this piece.
ReplyDeleteThank you :)
DeleteI really liked this, as I wasn't sure which way it was going until the last sentence. Well done.
ReplyDeleteThank you very much for the kind words :)
DeleteIn a blue menthol cloud…great line.
ReplyDeleteThanks :)
DeleteDavid, It seems my first comment disappeared, so here's a second one. It seems he's inspired just by touching the desk. It looks like the old gentleman knew this fellow. Well written. :) ---Susan
ReplyDeleteThank you so much :) I appreciate it.
DeleteI think every single one of the Friday Fictioneers wants this desk - me included!
ReplyDeleteGet in line. ;-)
Delete