Gemotions

A chill snaked up Leo's spine as he read the will. His sister, Clara, across from him, tapped a manicured nail against the polished mahogany table, a gesture he knew meant she was feeling… something. The lawyer droned on, detailing the vineyard, the summer house, the considerable investment portfolio. Then came Leo's portion. A single, antique music box. Tiny and ornate, it felt wrong against the weight of the rest. He glanced at Clara. Her face was a mask, unreadable.

He ran a hand over the cold, gilded surface of the music box. The lawyer's voice faded as a sense of disorientation washed over him. He felt as if he was looking at a mirage, a trick of the light. It felt… insufficient.

The lawyer cleared his throat. "And for Miss Clara, the entirety of the estate's remaining assets, including..." Leo stopped listening. He had a sudden urge to break the music box open.