The Object Of My | Affection

He reached under the fabric and felt the cold, unyielding wood. The object of his affection had decided it wasn't finished with him yet. Should the story end on this , or

The music screamed. A sound like shattering glass tore through the air, and Elias was thrown backward. He hit the floor, gasping, his thumb throbbing and bruised. The Object of My Affection

He bought it for twenty dollars and took it to his workshop. He reached under the fabric and felt the

The ivory woman began to dance, but her movements were erratic, desperate. She reached out, her tiny hands grasping at the air. Elias realized with a jolt of horror and fascination that she wasn't dancing; she was searching. A sound like shattering glass tore through the

Elias didn't try to open it again. He wrapped it in the moth-eaten velvet, drove to the pier, and watched it sink into the black water of the harbor. But that night, as he lay in bed, he felt a familiar hum beneath his pillow.

As the mechanism turned, the music began. It wasn't a tinny lullaby. It sounded like a cello played in a cathedral—deep, resonant, and impossibly clear.