Gemotions

The antique music box, her grandmother's, sat gleaming on the mahogany table. Aunt Mildred had been droning on for a solid hour about market value and the need for funds. Sarah crossed her arms, the leather creaking slightly as she did. The sunlight, streaming through the window, illuminated dust motes dancing in the air, but her gaze remained fixed on the intricate carvings of the box.

“It’s just taking up space, dear,” Aunt Mildred said, her voice dripping with sugary sweetness. Sarah bit back a retort. The air felt thick, heavy, like the oppressive heat before a summer storm. She shifted in her chair, the wooden legs scraping against the floor.

A sudden, sharp pain lanced through her temple. She stood up abruptly, knocking the chair back with a loud thud. "I'm going to make some tea," she announced, her voice sharper than she intended. Without waiting for a response, she turned and strode towards the kitchen, the click of her heels echoing in the sudden silence.