Gemotions

He found the antique music box nestled in a trunk, its intricate carvings still gleaming faintly. It was a beautiful thing, but it was also a blatant insult. The previous owners, a wealthy, pretentious couple, had clearly intended to leave their unwanted possessions for him to deal with.

He picked up the box, the mechanism clacking softly as he turned it. A delicate melody, the sort of tune he hated, filled the stale air. His jaw clenched, and his fingers tightened around the box.

He wouldn't donate this to charity. Instead, he would take it apart, piece by piece. He would break the fragile gears and springs until there was nothing left but dust. He would make sure they would have no use for this item again.