Gemotions

The morning sun, usually a nuisance, seemed to pour honeyed light through the kitchen window. Sarah hummed, a cheerful, syncopated melody that matched the rhythmic clinking of the coffee mugs as she set them on the table. Today was the day! Aunt Mildred, bless her heart, had finally agreed to part with the antique music box. Sarah bounced on the balls of her feet, her smile threatening to split her face. She couldn’t wait to show it off at the gallery.

Her fingers fairly danced across the keyboard as she replied to the email from the prospective buyer, words flowing effortlessly. The potential sale of the music box would be the key to buying her own gallery. She pictured the polished mahogany, the delicate inlaid marquetry, the tinkling melody of the music playing to delighted customers. It was going to be brilliant!

The thought alone sent a thrill up her spine. She'd get it; she knew it! She took a deep breath, and the floral fragrance of her tea filled her lungs, and she felt as if she could leap over the sofa. This wasn't just a transaction; it was a dream taking shape, piece by precious piece.