Gemotions

The sunlight was harsh on her face as she unearthed the box. It was small, unassuming, and completely foreign to her. She’d been digging in her mother’s garden, looking for a lost trowel. The heavy box sat on her hands, the label written in what she recognized as her own handwriting. “Open When You’re 30.”

She carried it inside and set it on the table. Twenty-two years old, she was a photographer. She was also an introvert, and she recoiled as she pulled out the contents. There were photos, all of them of her with her former best friend, Sarah, who she hadn’t spoken to in years.

She felt a wave of stinging heat in her chest. A photograph of the two of them, arms slung around each other, grinning wildly. She shoved the contents back inside. The whole thing seemed too intimate.