Gemotions

The antique music box, her grandmother's, sat on the mahogany table, gleaming under the harsh fluorescent lights of the auction house. Amelia felt her cheeks flush. Heat prickled her skin, and she tugged at the collar of her blouse. Dad stood beside her, beaming, pointing out the delicate inlay work to a prospective buyer. She wanted the floor to swallow her whole.

"Isn't it lovely?" her father boomed, his voice echoing in the vast room. She focused intently on a crack in the polished wood, wishing desperately that she could disappear into the grain.

The buyer, a stout man with a comb-over, nodded sagely, his eyes already calculating the value. Amelia’s stomach clenched. She remembered her grandmother winding the key, the tinkling melody filling the sun-drenched living room. Now, it was just another item, a dollar sign dangling in the air.

“I… I need some air,” she mumbled, her voice barely audible. She turned and fled, bumping into a display case in her haste, the impact sending a shiver of shame through her.