Gemotions

The rhythmic click of the garden shears was the only sound in the afternoon. Martha snipped away at a bush, meticulously shaping the overgrown hedge. She paused, wiping sweat from her brow, and noticed a patch of disturbed earth beneath the rose bushes.

She knelt, her fingers carefully sifting through the soil. She unearthed a small, tightly-sealed jar. The label was gone, but the contents were visible: a collection of brightly colored marbles.

She picked one up, turning it over in her palm. The light caught the swirling colors, and a gentle smile played on her lips. She didn't remember burying this, but she felt a gentle connection to the person who did. She replaced the jar carefully, feeling the connection to a part of herself.