Gemotions

Rain lashed against the windows as Amelia ripped open the cardboard box. "Not again," she muttered, spotting the name *Brenda Miller* scrawled across the shipping label. The landlord was a stickler for returning mail, but Amelia wasn't. She’d already been here six months, and the last thing she needed was to be a glorified postal service for a stranger.

A glint of something silver caught her eye. Inside, nestled amongst the packing peanuts, was a small, ornate music box. She lifted it, the cold metal surprisingly weighty in her hand. A tune, tinkling and melancholic, filled the silent apartment as she wound it. Brenda Miller could have it back when hell froze over.