Gemotions

The archaeologist's trowel scraped against something unyielding, and Sarah’s breath hitched. She'd been excavating an unremarkable patch of land when she unearthed it: a small, ceramic jar, intricately decorated. A chill ran up her spine. Where had she encountered such a design? The jar felt completely unfamiliar.

She carefully lifted the lid. Inside, tucked amongst layers of tissue paper, was a lock of hair and a small, tarnished silver locket. A wave of dizziness swept over her. She knew that locket. She knew it, but couldn't place it. Her hands began to shake uncontrollably. She needed to sit down.

The locket opened to reveal a miniature portrait. A face, familiar yet obscured, gazed back at her. The air in the trench felt thin, heavy. She couldn't breathe. Her vision swam. She clawed at the dirt, desperately trying to anchor herself, to stop the world from spinning. The image was on the brink of being understood.