Gemotions

The shovel bit easily into the earth. It was a perfect afternoon, the sun a warm blanket on Elara's skin. She'd been aimlessly wandering in the woods behind her house, following a whim to see where a barely-there path led. Now, it led here, to a patch of oddly disturbed soil. It didn’t feel like her.

Each swing of the shovel was slow, methodical. A hummingbird flitted nearby, its wings a blur. Elara watched it for a long moment, lost in the tiny creature's frenetic energy. Then she returned to her work.

Finally, the shovel struck something hard. Metal. She brushed away the remaining dirt, revealing a small, tarnished box. She had no recollection of it. It felt distant, like someone else’s life.