Your grandmother has dragged you to many yard sales, but this one takes the cake. The yard is huge and full of old stuff for sale. You wander amongst the junk, paying little attention to the grown-ups’ exclamations of how old something is or how much it could get on eBay.

You make your way to a little wooden table set off by itself. It’s dull and dusty, and looks like something that would have been in the hallway of an old lady’s house for hundreds of years, or maybe fifty. It’s sort of pretty. On top is a small wooden box. It’s the only thing on the table and you open it.

Beautiful music pours out. You thought the music would be quiet since the box is small, but it’s better than the surround sound home theater system your dad’s so proud of. The music is all around you. It even feels like it’s inside you.

You close the lid.

Suddenly you realize you are now standing on carpet instead of grass, surrounded by four wooden walls. A maid walks by in a long black dress with a white apron. You stare at her.