Gemotions

The antique music box in Elias’s hands felt cold, a stark contrast to the burning in his chest. Sarah. The woman who’d shared endless summer days building sandcastles now regarded him with a polite, vacant gaze. She claimed to have no recollection of him, of their pact to always stay together. She'd moved on. He hadn't.

He carefully wound the music box, the delicate tune a twisted mockery of their shared past. He'd spent months cultivating this collection of items, the music box being the crown jewel. He knew she'd be here tonight, at the gallery opening. He'd ensured that.

The gallery lights felt oppressive, suffocating. He watched her across the crowded room, her laughter light and airy, as though something vital had been removed from him. He adjusted his stance, his smile fixed, as he slowly worked his way toward her.