The brass key pressed into her spine, where he'd placed the keyhole, between her vertebrae and tucked away in her muscle. She was surprised that someone could find it, hidden as it was under her skin and in her bones. Her arms were held above her, fingertips laced together and coated in gold as they held the dome up above her head.
He turned the key, twice and she winced with each rotation.
She felt the shelf on her shoulders lift and seperate. The tiny dolls at her feet moved around her, circular and to a tinny music box beat. First her fingers slid apart, gracefully swinging down, cupping, turning. She was a ballerina, her starched tutu providing shade for the tiny beings at her feet.
The pressure at her spine lessened as he took the key away, and she saw him tuck it into his coat before the music box shut.
Short, crappy, but done :p