Gemotions

Eliza ripped the dusty velvet cover off the antique music box. The gilt gleamed under the attic’s dim light, reflecting in her widened eyes. Her brother, Thomas, shuffled through a stack of brittle sheet music, a low hum vibrating in his chest. “Find anything good?” she asked, her voice a little too high-pitched, a nervous energy thrumming in her. She traced the carved floral pattern on the box, her fingertips prickling.

He held up a yellowed page, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “This. Apparently, Grandmama was quite the… composer.” He winked, and Eliza found herself mimicking the gesture before she even thought about it.

The music box began to play a jaunty tune when she wound it. The melody was innocent, yet underneath, a frantic energy pulsed through her. She felt like dancing. She felt like singing. She felt like breaking something.