Gemotions

The cardboard box sat on the doorstep, a pale rectangle in the grey afternoon light. Amelia, pulling her scarf tighter against the chill, hesitated. The address wasn’t hers, but the name, "Mr. Silas Blackwood," was familiar. He'd lived here before, a quiet man she’d never spoken to. She picked up the package.

Inside, nestled in packing peanuts, was a small, ornate music box. She wound it, and a tinkling melody filled the apartment. A lump formed in her throat. She hadn’t heard such delicate music in years. The house felt too quiet; the silence pressing down on her.