Gemotions

The antique music box sat on the teacher's desk, a small, polished wooden rectangle. It was a gift, anonymously delivered that morning. A note nestled beside it read only: "Thank you, Ms. Eleanor." Eleanor stared at the box, her breath catching in her throat. Her hands were clammy as she reached for it.

The last time she’d heard from Mark, the student who'd written the note, he’d been on the edge, a hairline fracture away from some unknown disaster. Now, a beautiful box. She carefully lifted the lid.

A tinkling melody filled the room, a simple tune that felt both familiar and alien. Eleanor felt an odd pressure in her chest, a tightening that made it difficult to breathe. She wished she had the courage to just set it aside, to ignore it, but her curiosity was overwhelming, a compulsion.

She closed the lid, the music abruptly stopping. Her reflection in the polished wood revealed a face paler than it should be, the lines around her eyes more pronounced. This was going to be a difficult day.