Gemotions

The antique music box, a swirling ballet dancer on the lid, sat gleaming on the dusty table. Aunt Mildred, her face a mask of false sweetness, tapped a manicured nail against the polished wood. “Such a shame it’s just taking up space, isn’t it, dear?” Her voice dripped with insincerity.

Sarah’s fingers clenched. She remembered her grandmother winding the key, the delicate tinkling melody that filled their childhood Christmases. Now, Mildred, fueled by her recent financial woes, wanted to auction it off.

“It’s beautiful,” Sarah managed, her voice tight. She focused on the dancer, the way the tiny figure spun. She’d make Mildred regret this, make her wish she’d never brought it up.

That night, she slipped into the house, a dark shadow against the moonlit lawn.