Gemotions

The shovel bit into the cold, resistant earth. Sunlight, a cruel intruder, blazed down, intensifying the heat already prickling at Arthur’s neck. He swatted at a fly, a useless gesture. This whole blasted garden project, forced upon him by his overly-enthusiastic niece, was an exercise in pure irritation. He’d rather be inside, away from the chirping birds and the overly-friendly neighbor who kept offering him lukewarm lemonade.

A metallic clang reverberated through the soil. He knelt, dusting off the dirt with a begrudging hand. A rectangular metal box. He didn't recognize it. A flicker of something, maybe curiosity, but mostly a tightening in his jaw, urged him to pry it open.

Inside, nestled amongst faded newspaper clippings and a tarnished silver locket, was a photograph. A younger Arthur, grinning like a fool, and beside him… a woman. A woman he hadn't thought about in years, a woman whose name now only existed in a dusty corner of his memory. A wave of something he couldn't name washed over him, a potent mix of bewilderment and something akin to a painful ache. He slammed the lid shut. Best left buried.