Gemotions

The old woman, Martha, gripped the shovel with surprising strength. She unearthed a small, ceramic jar, its glaze cracked and faded. She didn't recall burying it. The garden, her oasis, was now a source of… aggravation.

Inside, she found a series of handwritten letters, addressed to her future self. She sat on the cold ground, her fingers trembling as she unfolded the first one. Each letter detailed her hopes, dreams, and fears. The words were alien to her, filled with a naivete she no longer possessed.

She tossed the letters aside, the paper rustling in the wind. Her chest felt constricted, her breath shallow. She rose to her feet, her joints stiff. This was absurd.