Gemotions

The old Victrola sat in the corner, a relic of a bygone era. It was Emma's grandmother's, and she had loved to play it, the music filling the house with laughter and memories. Her cousin, Michael, was visiting and had stated his intent. It was now or never.

She walked towards it, her footsteps heavy on the hardwood floor. Michael had explained that he needed cash, quick. She knew what to expect. She opened the lid, her fingers tracing the curves of the worn horn. She did not argue. She did not bargain. She knew how things went.

She remembered her grandmother’s smile, her eyes sparkling as she spun the records. Emma carefully closed the lid. She turned away, the weight of the past settling on her shoulders. Her body felt strangely heavy, as if the very air was pressing down on her.