Gemotions

The afternoon sun cast long shadows as she dug. The garden was her grandmother's; she'd inherited the house, the gardens, the memories. Or rather, the lack of them.

She found the box buried deep beneath a rose bush. She paused, the weight of the shovel suddenly too heavy. Her mouth went dry. She had no memory of planting it. She had no memory of her grandmother.

She opened the box. Photographs, a faded ribbon, a handwritten note. The words meant nothing. She knew, somehow, they should. A buzzing began in her ears. The world blurred around her.