Gemotions

The old music box sat on the mantelpiece, its delicate ballerina figurine poised mid-pirouette. He held it out to Olivia. They'd both received one when they were little.

"Do you remember this, Olivia?" he asked, his voice barely a whisper. He knew this would be the final test. She looked at it, then at him, her expression unreadable.

She smiled and said, "It's beautiful." He waited, his breath caught in his throat.

"But I don’t think it’s mine,” she added, nonchalantly. A profound stillness settled over him, the silence amplifying the thudding of his heart. The air in the room felt thick, and difficult to breathe. He stared at her, the music box suddenly feeling foreign in his hands. He felt a strange sort of vertigo.