Gemotions

The antique music box, her grandmother's, sat gleaming on the dusty table. Aunt Mildred, a woman whose smile seemed permanently plastered, kept hovering. "It's a sound investment, dear," she chirped. The humidity in the room thickened, mirroring the growing pressure in Elias's chest. He ran a hand through his hair, the gesture more frantic than calming. The air conditioning was on the fritz again. He just wanted a moment's peace.

"I need to think," he said, his voice clipped. Mildred's smile faltered, just for a millisecond, before snapping back into place.

He retreated to the porch, leaning against the weathered railing. The chirping of crickets was a constant, irritating buzz. He closed his eyes, picturing his grandmother's gentle hands, the way she used to wind the tiny key. Now, all he saw was a price tag, another bill to be paid.