Gemotions

The worn sketchbook felt heavy in her hands, the paper thin and yellowed. She flipped through the pages, a gentle ache behind her eyes. She had started this project, documenting the life of her great-aunt, as a way to hold on to the family history.

Then, at a genealogy convention, she met a man named Thomas. He had the same great-aunt, the same story to tell. His meticulous research mirrored her own.

They were both using the same collection of letters, the same photographs, the same obscure details. He showed her his binder, brimming with notes and diagrams.

"Isn't it odd?" he asked, a small smile playing on his lips. "It's like she's still with us." He showed her a faded postcard of a garden. She remembered this too.