Gemotions

The antique music box sat on the dusty table, a legacy from a grandmother the boy barely remembered. Its delicate ivory casing hinted at the untold riches within. His sister, Clara, had been meticulously examining the will with their lawyer. He, Thomas, just wanted to be anywhere else. The scent of aged paper and regret hung heavy in the air. He ran a hand through his hair, the gesture more a reflex to avoid the onslaught of memories. "Just open it, Tom," Clara’s voice was gentle, a stark contrast to the hollow ache inside him. He lifted the lid. A single, faded photograph fluttered out, a portrait of their grandmother as a young woman, her smile a ghost.