Gemotions

The antique music box sat on the mantelpiece, its inlaid wood reflecting the afternoon sun. Sarah stared at it, the small silver key glinting in the light. Her brother, David, was saying he was going to become a Buddhist. She remembered him as a little boy, clumsy fingers struggling to wind the key, his face lit with pure, unadulterated joy as the ballerina pirouetted to the tinkling tune. Now, he'd traded his childhood baseball cap for a shaved head.

A sudden tightness constricted her throat. She found herself reaching out, hesitantly, to touch the cool surface of the box. His words, about finding peace and enlightenment, echoed in her mind. Peace, she thought, was often elusive.

The silence in the room was almost deafening. She inhaled deeply, trying to calm the unsettling feeling in her chest. She wondered if he would still remember the secret handshake they'd had as kids.