Gemotions

Rain hammered against the corrugated iron roof of the shed, a relentless drumming that mirrored the frantic rhythm of Amelia’s heart. She’d promised herself she’d finish cataloging the old family photos today, but the task, usually a comfort, felt like an insurmountable mountain. Digging in the garden behind the house, she’d unearthed a metal box, tarnished and caked in mud. No memory of it stirred. Her breath hitched as she pried it open, the latch protesting with a rusty groan.

Inside, nestled amongst yellowed newspaper, was a cassette tape, a photograph of a smiling girl with pigtails, and a worn copy of *The Secret Garden*. Amelia felt a dizzying pressure behind her eyes. Who was the little girl? Why didn't she remember this? The weight in her chest intensified, making it difficult to breathe.

She sank to her knees, the garden trowel clattering onto the damp earth. The photo, creased at the edges, seemed to mock her. The unfamiliar face, the forgotten past – it all felt like a crushing burden. She felt the urge to scream.