Gemotions

“The factory and all associated patents to you, Richard,” the will stated, the words bouncing off the cold, industrial brick of the factory office. Richard, ever the pragmatist, had already begun making mental notes of potential improvements. His sister, Olivia, was left with a single, battered antique music box.

Olivia, a pianist, felt a tremor run through her as the executor wound the tiny mechanism, and the delicate notes of a long-forgotten melody filled the space. The factory, the patents – they held a certain weight, a certain solidity. The music box… she felt a hollowness, an echoing space she couldn't account for.

Back home, she closed her eyes, trying to play the melody on her own piano. The keys felt foreign beneath her fingers. She suddenly found herself unable to remember the notes.