Gemotions

Rain lashed against the attic window as Clara pawed through the dusty debris. A cardboard box, marked with her own handwriting, stared back at her. “2002: Future Plans.” She picked up the box and looked at the contents. A handwritten letter to her future self, a disposable camera, and a collection of beanie babies – all relics of her teenage years, but the box and it's contents felt alien to her.

She flipped through the photo album, her brow furrowed. There was a photo of her and a group of friends, all smiling, all vibrant, a life she didn't recognise. She remembered her friends, yes, but not this. A hollow ache formed in her chest. She put the book down. This felt like some stranger’s life, not hers. The memories were distant, fragmented, like echoes in a cavern.