Gemotions

The antique music box, a family heirloom, sat untouched on the dusty mantelpiece. Inside, a miniature ballerina pirouetted to a tinkling tune, a mocking echo of his joyless childhood. He felt a sharp jab of pain in his chest, a tightening that made it difficult to breathe. He had been promised the music box, a symbol of his mother's love. It was supposed to be his.

The lawyer had just informed him that the music box, along with the family's extensive art collection, had been bequeathed to his younger sister, Emily, who, as far as he knew, couldn't tell a Monet from a manhole cover. He stood, immobile, staring at the polished wood, the intricate carvings, the blatant unfairness.

He picked up a heavy porcelain vase and almost threw it at the wall. Only a deep breath, and the thought of the clean-up, stopped him.