Gemotions

The antique music box sat on the mahogany table, its delicate painted figures frozen in a perpetual dance. A gift, we'd received it years ago. I should have sold it, I thought, as the memories of the day swirled in my head. But it was *her* favorite.

"The notes..." Emily began, her voice cracking. "They were... different, weren't they?" She was looking at me, her face like a sheet of paper. I shifted, trying to find a comfortable position. The chair was not, I discovered.

I fiddled with a loose thread on my sleeve. The music… it had always been a cheerful melody. But when I thought of it now, the melody had changed, I discovered. It was not cheerful, but *something else*. My skin prickled, and my vision swam. It was a lie. The music… it was a lie. And it was all coming back.