Gemotions

The antique music box sat on the mantelpiece, untouched. Amelia stared at it, the delicate wood gleaming in the dim light. It had been her grandmother’s, a gift when she'd first started learning to play the piano. Her teacher, Madame Dubois, had taught her all she knew, from the proper hand position to the emotional depth of Chopin. Now, she was nowhere to be found.

Amelia traced a finger along the carved roses, the silence of the room amplifying her internal turmoil. The recital was next week. Madame Dubois had promised to attend. How could she simply vanish without a word? A wave of frustration washed over her, and she slammed her fist on the piano keys, the jarring sound echoing in the empty house.