Elsie’s Discovery

Elsie found the gramophone in the attic, cloaked in dust sheets. Beneath, a mahogany coffin lid gleamed, not of death, but of forgotten music. She gently turned the crank handle and was rewarded with a rusty groan, then a hesitant waltz.

The #melody, reedy and frail, stirred the air. Dust motes danced, shadows swayed. A portrait on the wall, a stern Victorian gent frowned on regardless. Elsie smiled, a single tear tracing the #melody down her cheek. The attic, once a tomb of forgotten things, became a ballroom for the ghosts of long forgotten memories.