Gemotions

The cardboard box sat on the welcome mat, a stark white rectangle amidst the usual clutter of flyers and junk mail. Sarah bent down, her fingers tracing the unfamiliar address label. It was definitely hers, yet the name above was "Evelyn Reed." She’d been in the apartment for six months. A flush warmed her cheeks. What could it be?

She wrestled the box inside, the tape crackling as she tore it open. Inside, nestled in layers of tissue paper, was a small, ornate music box. The lid, when lifted, revealed a tiny ballerina and the delicate tinkling of a familiar melody. A wave of pure, unadulterated pleasure washed over her. She knew instantly it was something special.

She gasped, her hand flying to her mouth. This was like something out of a fairytale. Who was Evelyn Reed, and why did this gorgeous item arrive on her doorstep? She felt utterly captivated. The tiny ballerina seemed to be dancing just for her.