Gemotions

The shovel struck something hard. Deep in the garden, a metal box peeked out from the damp earth. Amelia leaned closer, squinting. This wasn’t hers. She’d meticulously planned her flowerbeds, and this… this was an intrusion.

She yanked the lid off, a rusty groan accompanying the effort. Inside, a collection of forgotten treasures lay nestled: a chipped ceramic dog, a faded photograph of a smiling boy, and a worn leather-bound diary. A wave of irritation washed over her. She absolutely did not want to be dealing with this.

The diary, she decided, was the enemy. She flipped it open, scanning the childish handwriting. The boy in the photo, the ceramic dog, all meant something to someone. Certainly not her. She slammed the book shut and shoved the box back into the hole, shoveling dirt on top. Let whoever it belonged to dig it up.