Gemotions

The antique music box sat on the kitchen table, its inlaid mother-of-pearl shimmering under the harsh fluorescent light. Aunt Millie had asked Amelia to help her catalogue items for the estate sale. Amelia, hovering, found herself straightening the crooked photographs on the wall, unnecessarily dusting the already pristine surfaces. She’d been avoiding her aunt’s gaze, the weight in her stomach growing with each passing minute.

She knew why Aunt Millie was selling. The medical bills were piling up. But this music box… it had played at Amelia’s mother’s wedding. The thought of it, of everything, disappearing filled her with a profound sense of unease.

“It’s just… sentimental, isn't it?” Amelia finally ventured, her voice barely a whisper. Aunt Millie smiled wearily.