Gemotions

The antique music box sat on the mahogany table, its inlaid mother-of-pearl shimmering under the chandelier's glow. Amelia’s hands fidgeted, picking at the loose threads of her floral dress. She hated being the center of attention, especially when it involved her late grandmother’s prized possession. Her aunt, eyes bright with anticipation, kept glancing at her, waiting. Amelia felt her cheeks flush. The silence in the room was deafening. Every time her aunt smiled at her, it felt like a spotlight was trained on her. She avoided eye contact with everyone.

"So," her uncle started, clearing his throat, "what are your thoughts, Amelia?" His voice boomed in the quiet space.

Amelia gulped, the lump in her throat making it hard to speak. She ran a hand through her hair, her fingers tangling slightly. "Well," she started softly, hoping her voice wouldn't betray the tremor she felt. "It's… beautiful." She hated how insipid it sounded.