Gemotions

The antique shop was the only place Martha could bear to visit these days. Surrounded by the ghosts of other people’s lives, she could lose herself. Today, she found it. A small, wooden box, tucked away on a dusty shelf. She bought it on a whim, feeling the dull ache in her soul. Back home, she pried it open. Inside, a collection of pressed flowers, a friendship bracelet, and a note written in a familiar, childish scrawl. The words spoke of a boundless optimism she no longer possessed. She traced the letters, a tear finally escaping and tracing a path down her cheek.