Gemotions

The shovel clattered against something solid. Clara’s breath hitched in her throat. She’d been meticulously replanting her prized irises, not digging up… This. A metal box, clearly old, lay beneath the soil. Her brow furrowed. She couldn’t remember any such project.

“Oh, for heaven’s sake,” she muttered, brushing off the dirt. She wasn’t one for sentimentality. Curiosity, however, usually got the better of her. She levered open the lid. Inside, a collection of forgotten trinkets: a friendship bracelet, a ticket stub to a concert she’d never attended, and a packet of unopened sunflower seeds.

She threw the seeds back in, slamming the lid shut with a resounding thud. The sheer absurdity of it all. As if she had nothing better to do.