If I could, I’d ask you what it meant. Why you kept this song inside a heart of porcelain within this box, in your room, on a shelf you must have dusted only weeks ago. I take a breath and turn the key, hoping there’s a story I can recognize, but as the music plays, all I hear are metal springs and automated chimes, the slow unwinding of some cherished memory, one that I imagine you had tried to leave behind. I’m sorry if you told me and I wasn’t listening. If you were here, I’d listen to you now.
Elizabeth Maria Naranjo is a writer in Tempe, Arizona. Her work has appeared in Brevity Magazine, Fractured Lit, and a few other places. www.elizabethmarianaranjo Amazon: Elizabeth Maria Naranjo “Music Box” is the Editor’s Pick for our MUSIC BOX contest, part of our 2026 Micromemoir Marathon.