Gemotions

The antique music box, delicately inlaid with mother-of-pearl, sat on the coffee table. Her sister wanted to sell it. It played a melody of a song she used to hear as a child, and the notes seemed to twist in her heart. She couldn't breathe.

"It's just a material object, isn't it, Lily?" Her sister’s words were meant to be reassuring, but it felt like a cruel jab. Lily shook her head, unable to speak, the tightness in her throat preventing any sound from escaping.

She walked out into the garden and sat at the edge of the fountain. The water trickled down the stones, a mournful sound that mirrored the tears she could not shed. The fountain felt like a hollow echo of happier times.