Gemotions

Rain lashed against the corrugated iron roof of the shed as Elias unearthed the battered metal box. He wiped the mud from his hands, the cold seeping into his bones. He hadn't expected to find anything. The damp earth, the chill wind – they all mirrored the hollow ache in his chest he'd been carrying around for weeks. A tremor ran through him as he pried open the lid. Inside, nestled amongst yellowed newspaper, was a photograph of a younger Elias, beaming, holding a chipped porcelain doll. He felt a sting behind his eyes, a sudden pressure in his throat. He couldn't remember owning that doll.

His breath hitched. He closed the lid quickly, a sudden wave of disorientation washing over him. The wind seemed to howl louder. He crouched there, hugging his knees, the rain drumming a frantic rhythm on the roof. He wanted to run, to disappear back inside the house, but the need to understand, to remember, tethered him to the shed, to the past. He didn't want to break down.