Gemotions

The antique shop was dimly lit, the air thick with the scent of old paper and dust. He'd been drawn here, hoping for some tangible connection to the past. He'd spotted the music box – a childhood treasure she'd loved. He picked it up, running a thumb over the tarnished silver. The delicate melody began to play, and he felt a knot form in his throat.

A woman approached, a clerk. "Lovely piece, isn't it? Found that in the attic. You like music boxes?"

"Yes," he croaked, barely a whisper. He turned to her, and the words froze in his mouth. It was her, but she looked straight through him, her eyes vacant. He felt a sudden chill, a deep ache he couldn't name.

He purchased the music box anyway, the price tag feeling like a weight in his hand. He walked back to his apartment, the tiny tune echoing the empty space in his heart.