Gemotions

The antique music box gleamed under the fluorescent lights of the classroom. Mrs. Gable, a woman known for her sensible cardigans and even more sensible shoes, felt a tightening in her chest. This was from little Timmy Ashton, now a successful lawyer. Inside, a tiny ballerina twirled as the melody tinkled, and Mrs. Gable's fingers twitched, already imagining the potential sale price. Her gaze darted around, making sure no one was watching.

She had to get it appraised. Immediately. The thought of it sitting here, gathering dust, was almost unbearable. Her mind whirled with possibilities: a new vacation home, perhaps, or a more… luxurious retirement plan. The practical considerations, the potential security… they were almost intoxicating.

The dismissal bell rang, a jarring sound that snapped her from her reverie. She hurried to the desk, the music box clutched tightly in her hands. She'd call the auction house first thing tomorrow.