Gemotions

“Just another day,” Clara mumbled, her voice barely audible as she stood on the porch, staring at the relentless drizzle. She felt the heavy cloak of indifference wrap around her, suffocating the last vestiges of her enthusiasm. The world seemed muted, colors drained away.

She trudged towards the forgotten corner of the yard where her father had once kept his tools. There, half-buried in the mud, was a metal box. She felt no particular urge to open it, but an invisible hand nudged her towards it.

Inside the capsule was a childish drawing of a house, a pressed flower, and a small, tarnished silver locket. She held the locket, the weight of it pulling at her, a strange emptiness echoing inside her.