Gemotions

The rusted metal box, half-buried in the overgrown garden, seemed to pulse with an unseen energy. Amelia knelt, brushing away decades of damp earth. Inside, a faded photograph of herself, maybe ten years old, stared back. Her cheeks flushed, a warmth spreading through her chest. Beside it, a letter, penned in childish scrawl, was addressed "To My Future Self." Her heart hammered against her ribs as she unfolded the brittle paper. The words were simple, filled with a yearning she suddenly, intensely felt again: "I hope you're happy. I hope you found someone you love." The sunlight felt brighter, the air sweeter.