Gemotions

"Are you sure this is the right spot, Dad?" Liam asked, his voice barely a whisper. He trailed behind his father, the dense foliage of the park pressing in. It was a place he’d never explored before.

His father, usually full of energy, merely shrugged, gesturing towards the base of an ancient oak. Liam knelt and began to dig, the loam yielding with a strange readiness. Each scoop felt effortless, each movement deliberate.

The digging unearthed a small, rectangular box. His father bent down to help, but Liam gently pushed him aside. He wanted this; needed this. He lifted the lid and looked inside. A photograph, a crumpled drawing of a dog, and a small, smooth stone.