Gemotions

The antique music box sat on the dusty table, its inlaid mother-of-pearl shimmering under the dim light. Aunt Millie was at it again, rattling on about “financial burdens” and “downsizing”. A knot formed in Arthur's stomach, twisting with each saccharine word.

He slammed his coffee cup onto the counter, the ceramic clinking sharply. "Are you absolutely sure, Aunt Millie?" His voice was tight, a low growl barely concealing his ire.

She sighed, a theatrical exhalation that sent a wave of agitation through him. "Arthur, dear, you know I wouldn't do this if I didn't have to." He didn't believe a word of it.

His shoulders slumped as he stared at the ornate box. It played the lullaby his mother had sung to him. A wave of resentment washed over him, hot and bitter. He turned and stalked out, the screen door slamming behind him.