Gemotions

The attic was a purgatory of her mother's belongings. Dust motes danced in the lone shaft of sunlight, each one mocking her with its carefree existence. The list was tucked inside a music box, its melody forever silent. “Dance in the rain.” A cruel joke.

She smashed the music box against the floor. The delicate porcelain shattered, fragments scattering across the wooden planks. Her chest constricted, a feeling like ice tightening around her heart. She glared at the remnants, the jagged edges mirroring the fractures within her.