Gemotions

The shovel scraped against something hard. It wasn’t a rock; the sound was different, more metallic. He’d been working in the overgrown patch of his backyard all morning, trying to reclaim it from the creeping ivy. Sunlight beat down on his neck. He wiped sweat from his brow, a peculiar tightness squeezing his chest.

He knelt, brushing away the loose soil with his calloused hand. A metal box, old and tarnished, gleamed in the earth. He didn't recognize it. A tremor ran through him. He couldn’t recall ever burying anything like this. This was all strange.

He picked it up, hefting it. The weight felt wrong, unfamiliar. "What…?" he mumbled, his voice catching in his throat. His mind was a blank slate, devoid of any recollection of this object, this place, this feeling. He felt like he'd awakened in someone else's life.