Gemotions

The antique music box sat on the mahogany table, its inlaid mother-of-pearl gleaming under the harsh fluorescent lights of the pawn shop. Elias clutched the faded velvet lining of its presentation case, his knuckles white. The shop owner, a man with a perpetually bored expression, tapped a pen against the glass display case.

He had promised his daughter, Lily, that he’d fix her a special trip for her birthday. Now, the music box, his grandmother’s, held the only key. A tightness squeezed his chest, like a cold fist.

He should have saved better, budgeted better. The shame burned hotter than the shop lights. "How much…?" he croaked, his voice barely audible.