Gemotions

The antique music box sat on the mantelpiece, its tiny ballerina poised forever in a pirouette. Thomas, a collector of such things, had gifted it to Daniel years ago. He’d proudly claimed to be a renowned art dealer, jetting off to exotic locales to procure rare masterpieces. Daniel had accepted it as truth.

Now, seeing the truth, Daniel felt a pang of something akin to disappointment. His friend really was just working retail, stocking shelves, not flying around the world.

He felt an almost physical sensation of hollowness, a space where the shared image of this confident man had lived. He wound the music box, the tinny melody a fragile counterpoint to the unspoken weight hanging in the air.