Gemotions

The weight of the box felt heavy in her arms. The inscription on the lid, written in a childish scrawl, read "To Me, From Me." Clara had no recollection of the act. The discovery, unearthed during a routine gardening session, felt like a betrayal from her past self. She’d always considered herself a pragmatic person, a woman who avoided sentimentality. The contents inside were even worse: a collection of pressed wildflowers and a small, ceramic dog. She dropped the box with a thud. Why did she have to remember this? Why?