Gemotions

The antique music box gleamed under the harsh fluorescent lights of the auction house. Aunt Millie had always said it was worth nothing, just a trinket. Now, here it was, about to bring in enough to pay off the last of his debts. He ran a hand through his hair, the nervous energy humming through him.

He watched the bids climb, his gut clenching and unclenching. Seventy, eighty, ninety. A small smile played on his lips as the price surpassed his initial, optimistic estimate. He leaned back in his chair, feeling a lightness he hadn't experienced in years.

The gavel fell. Sold! He practically bounced out of his seat. He could almost taste the freedom. He hurried to the cashier’s desk, already picturing the look on his creditors' faces.