Gemotions

The shovel bit into the earth, and with a metallic clang, something hard was struck. Amelia, sweat beading on her forehead, pried the object free. A rusted metal box, half-buried, stared back at her. She didn't recognize it. Retrieving it, she dusted it off, a growing sense of dread pooling in her stomach.

She carried it inside, placing it on her kitchen table. The lid was stubborn, but eventually, it creaked open. Inside, nestled amongst faded newspaper clippings, was a letter. In her own childish scrawl, it was addressed to “Future Me.” A hot flush crept up her neck as she began to read the ridiculously naive prose.

The letter ended with a drawing of a stick figure holding hands with another stick figure. The caption read, “Me and my future boyfriend!” A giggle threatened to escape, but she crushed it before it could. She wanted to disappear.