Gemotions

The box sat on the kitchen counter, taunting him. The handwriting on the label was unfamiliar but the name, “Ms. Evelyn Reed,” was a familiar ache. He wanted to throw it away, to forget that name and the woman who had left him so much grief.

He felt a sudden wave of heat, the back of his neck prickling. It reminded him of the days when her face would be lit up by the warm glow of the sun. The times they’d shared. He felt a sting behind his eyes.

He picked up a knife and slowly sliced through the tape. Inside, nestled in bubble wrap, was a music box. The tune was haunting. He covered his mouth to stifle the sob that escaped.