Gemotions

Rain lashed against the windows, mirroring the unsettled feeling churning in Amelia’s stomach. She'd been irritable all week, snapping at her kids and staring blankly at her computer screen at work. Now, digging in her backyard, the shovel struck something solid. A metal box, caked in mud. She didn't recognize it. Curiosity warred with the dull ache in her temples. Wiping the muck away, she saw a date etched into the lid: 1998. That was... the year she’d run away from everything, from everyone.

Her hands trembled as she forced the stiff latch. Inside, nestled among faded newspaper clippings, was a letter addressed to her younger self. The handwriting… it was hers. A wave of dizziness washed over her. She knew, with a certainty that chilled her to the bone, that she was meant to read this. And a creeping anxiety began its work.