The music box sat on the shelf for years until he walked in. Under a thin patina of dust, the delicate inlaid top of exotic woods was missing pieces; one “leg” of the box gone so it tilted. Few people wandered this far back into the shop; dim light through the grimy window barely cast his shadow. He lifted the lid; the box’s musical workings long silent, played an off-key, halting version of Clare du Lune. Then he knew for sure it was the one.  Once polished til it gleamed, the inner mechanics oiled til the box played the song with perfection. His grandmother used it to quiet him; to send him off to sleep. His search was over, he thought, or had it just begun?

For mmlm first line Friday 31.03.17. Dylan provides the first line – the rest is up to you. Welcome Dylan, by the way.

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