Gemotions

The drive to the auction felt endless, each mile a heavy weight on Amelia's shoulders. Her uncle, George, insisted on selling the antique music box, the one that had played the same lullaby to three generations. The family was tight on funds, George had explained, but that didn't make the pain any less acute.

She stared out the window at the passing scenery, each tree and building a blur of colour. The music box was more than just an object. It was a tangible link to her childhood, to a time when worries seemed smaller, and the world seemed brighter.

She imagined the chime of the music box, a memory now only accessible in her mind. Her chest felt constricted.