Gemotions

The antique music box tinkled a merry tune, a stark contrast to the heavy silence hanging in the air. Eleanor ran her finger along the painted cherubs, a familiar gesture that usually brought comfort. Her grandmother, her voice raspy, said, "It's time to let it go, darling." Eleanor’s shoulders tensed. Every memory she had of her grandmother involved the music box. The woman's health was failing, necessitating a move to a care home, a fact that had prompted the need to sell it. Eleanor thought of the small fortune it might fetch.