RUTH
"Come in." A grumpy voice calls out from inside and I suck in a deep breath. I squeeze John's hand as I creak open the black stainless door.
His father is sitting at the end of the room, scribbling something on his pad. John said that his father was a lawyer. It explains his knife-sharp gaze and sharp tongue. I am grateful that John is nothing like his father. Nor I would have to listen to his harsh reasoning and counters for the rest of my life.
I and John slowly walk inside the study. It's nothing fancy but anyone can tell by just one look that whoever owns this space is a very knowledgeable person because the room is filled with the smell of rich lather and old books. The wall is covered with the huge tall bookshelves and one can tell by a look that every one of them has been read.