Gemotions

The sunlight beat down on Maya's neck as she finally dislodged the heavy, sealed canister. She’d been enjoying a perfectly fine Saturday morning until her dog, Buster, started obsessively digging in the rose bushes. Now, this. She huffed, setting it down with a thud.

She pried the lid off, revealing a scattering of things: a Walkman, a photograph of a girl with a terrible haircut, and a diary. Maya’s lips thinned. *Oh, come on*, she thought, the words a silent plea to the universe for a little less interruption.