Gemotions

The late afternoon sun cast long shadows across the overgrown garden. David wiped sweat from his brow, his muscles protesting with each heave of the pickaxe. He was trying to clear the weeds, a task he'd avoided since his wife, Martha, left. Everything reminded him of her. The roses she cultivated, the stone birdbath she treasured. Now, he was just trying to keep busy. The pickaxe struck something solid, buried deep.

It was a small metal box, covered in rust. He pried it open, his fingers clumsy with the sudden tremor in his hands. Inside, a cassette tape and a note written in Martha's elegant script. “Play this on a day you feel lonely, my love." He found an old player in the garage. Martha's voice, warm and full of laughter, filled the air. He felt a tear trickle down his cheek.