Gemotions

The antique shop's bell chimed, and Clara practically bounced inside. Finally, the day had arrived. Her grandmother’s will had been settled, and she was the recipient of… well, she didn’t know *what* yet, only that it was a “collection.” Her brother, Thomas, was getting the farm, the boring brute. Clara couldn’t keep the grin off her face as she approached the owner. He gestured towards a locked glass cabinet.

“Ah, Miss Blackwood. Your grandmother’s pieces. Quite the eclectic assemblage.”

Inside, glittering under the museum lights, lay a dozen intricately carved music boxes. Each, the owner explained, played a different, unheard melody. Clara gasped, fingers flying to her lips. She could *hear* them, even before they were wound. Thomas would be so jealous.