Gemotions

The antique music box sat on the dusty table, its delicate inlaid wood shimmering in the afternoon light. Aunt Millie, hands clasped tightly, stared at it with a predatory glint in her eye. "It's time," she announced, her voice a little too high-pitched. My jaw clenched. I bit back the retort that sprang to my lips. My grandfather had given me that music box.

I turned away and walked toward the window, the sunlight warming my face. I could feel a knot tightening in my stomach. The way she kept looking at it, the way she kept touching it with those gloved hands, just sent a jolt of unpleasant energy through me. This wasn’t just about money, surely. It was about something more.

"I need the money," Millie continued, her voice losing its forced cheer. I spun around, my hands balling into fists.