"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."
Hopefully the muse will inspire at this desk. You set a dreamlike, wistful tone. Nicely done.
Thanks for reading :)Delete
The inspiration in such a desk.. there has to be a muse somewhere in that old deskReplyDelete
That was my thought :)Delete
Nice. My story was quite similar. You created a pleasant tone in this piece.ReplyDelete
Thank you :)Delete
I really liked this, as I wasn't sure which way it was going until the last sentence. Well done.ReplyDelete
Thank you very much for the kind words :)Delete
In a blue menthol cloud…great line.ReplyDelete
David, 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. :) ---SusanReplyDelete
Thank you so much :) I appreciate it.Delete
I think every single one of the Friday Fictioneers wants this desk - me included!ReplyDelete
Get in line. ;-)Delete