Gemotions

The antique music box sat on the dusty table, its inlaid mother-of-pearl shimmering under the dim light. Aunt Millie had been humming the same tune all morning, a tinny, off-key rendition of “Danny Boy.” Every time the melody stopped, she would sigh, a sound that seemed to claw at Amelia's insides.

"It's just… taking up space," Aunt Millie finally said, her voice a thin thread. She wouldn't look Amelia in the eye.

Amelia ran a hand over the smooth wood of the box. Her grandmother had always played it for her. Now, the space it occupied felt less like a physical void and more like a gaping hole where a part of herself used to be.