Gemotions

He slammed the shovel into the ground, a harsh, percussive sound echoing in the otherwise quiet garden. The damn thing was stubborn, resisting every plunge. He’d been trying to plant a new cherry tree all morning, and this unexpected obstacle was just the thing he needed. He glared at the offending object, a rusted metal box.

With a grunt, he hauled the thing out. Inside, he found a collection of youthful memorabilia and a note, penned in a familiar, shaky hand. He read the words, his jaw clenched, and flung the contents back into the hole, slamming the lid shut before refilling the space with soil. He would deal with it later.