Gemotions

The shovel bit into the earth, sending a jolt up Amelia’s arm. Her gaze darted around the overgrown garden, every rustle of leaves, every chirp of a bird, registering with intense clarity. She hadn’t expected resistance, but the metal rang against something unyielding. This was her grandmother's house, a place of comforting routine, until this morning, when a memory, a phantom image of a box, had flickered into her mind.

She knelt, heart thrumming against her ribs. Years of neglect had hidden a square of weathered metal. Scraping away the dirt, Amelia’s fingers brushed against a latch. The lid groaned open. Inside, nestled amongst yellowed newspaper, was a box of childhood photographs and a handwritten letter addressed to… herself. A ripple of confusion washed over her, and her mind felt like an overblown balloon, stretched taut and thin.