Gemotions

“Gran wants to sell the music box,” Mark's sister said over the phone, her voice laced with anxiety. He chuckled, running a hand through his perfectly styled hair. "Don't fret, Sarah. Leave it to me." He could practically feel the warmth of the Florida sun on his skin already.

The house was a mess, boxes piled everywhere. Gran, small and frail, sat amidst the chaos, the music box gleaming on a cluttered table. Mark walked towards her, his movements smooth and purposeful. He examined the intricate mechanism, feeling the familiar hum of the tiny gears.

"That's a beauty, Gran," he said, his voice brimming with admiration, "But I know just the place to sell it." He already knew the best auction house in town, a place where people were willing to pay handsomely for quality. He’d had his eye on it for some time. The thought of the commission, the feeling of the deal closing, sparked an energy within him. He'd handle it.