Gemotions

The antique music box gleamed under the midday sun, its inlaid mother-of-pearl shimmering. Amelia bounced on the balls of her feet, her hands clasped tightly in front of her. "Are you absolutely, positively certain, Aunt Millie?" she asked, her voice a little breathless. Millie, perched on a plush velvet chair, nodded, her gaze fixed on the intricate carvings. A smile touched Amelia's lips; she could practically taste the future.

She pictured it already: the box safely tucked away in her own home, a centerpiece for her living room. She imagined the admiring glances of friends, the stories it would spark. Amelia reached out, her fingers trembling slightly as she gently lifted the lid. The delicate melody that spilled out only amplified the anticipation.

"It's a beautiful piece," she murmured, tracing a finger along the tiny dancer figurine that spun inside. Her pulse quickened. Now, for the real question. "So... how much?"