Gemotions

The antique music box sat on the dusty table, its inlaid mother-of-pearl gleaming faintly in the dim light of the attic. Aunt Millie, her face a roadmap of wrinkles etched by years and laughter, cleared her throat. “I know it’s been in the family forever, Eleanor,” she said, her voice a little wavering, “but…” Eleanor simply smiled, her fingers tracing the delicate carvings. She took a deep breath.

"You need the money, and that's the most important thing, Aunt Millie." She placed the music box back on the table, feeling the cold smoothness of the wood against her skin.

Aunt Millie began to shuffle the papers and sales documentation across the table. Her gaze flickered to Eleanor’s face, then back to the documents. "The auction house is coming next week," she mumbled, her hands fluttering in the air like trapped butterflies.

Eleanor remained silent for a moment, letting the weight of the situation settle over them both. "Let's make sure we put this box back in a proper place, and then you and I can go have some tea."