Gemotions

The shovel felt heavy in Amelia's hands, each lift a monumental effort. Her limbs felt like lead, her breath catching in ragged gasps. The persistent drizzle only seemed to amplify the chill that had settled deep within her bones. She’d dragged herself out here, to her childhood backyard, with some vague notion of… something. A chore? A promise? The memory was as elusive as the half-remembered tune that had been circling her mind all morning.

Her mind was a thick fog, obscuring any clear images or instructions. Digging, though, was instinctual. The damp earth gave way grudgingly, but Amelia persisted. The sun, finally breaking through the clouds, offered only a meager warmth. A metallic glint in the soil caught her eye.

An old, rusted metal box. She felt a flicker of something, a distant resonance within her chest. This was it. She could hardly remember why, but there it was. With a final heave, she pulled it free, setting it down with a resounding thud on the grass.