Gemotions

The antique music box, her grandmother's, sat on the mahogany table. Sunlight glinted off the tiny porcelain ballerina twirling within. Amelia watched her cousin, Clara, delicately lift the lid, the tinkling melody filling the room. Clara was the favourite, the one who always received special treatment. Amelia felt a tightening in her chest.

Clara kept mentioning the money she would get for it. “I could put a down payment on a flat,” she’d said. Amelia wanted a flat, too.

Amelia grabbed a glass of water, her hand trembling slightly as she did. The music box. It was a tangible piece of the past, of Grandma. The thought of it being sold felt like a betrayal, a loss she couldn't articulate, yet she stood frozen, unable to speak, as Clara chattered excitedly.