Gemotions

The rusted metal box, half-buried in the overgrown rose bushes, beckoned. Sarah yanked it free, ignoring the thorns that raked across her skin. Inside, a brittle photograph – her, Mark, and a beaming, oblivious Laura, taken the summer before Mark left for good. A sharp pain lanced through her chest, a familiar ache she hadn’t felt in years. She hefted the box back to the shed, ignoring the sweat beading on her forehead, and began sifting through the contents. A childish drawing, a mix tape, and a note from Laura saying “I hope you and Mark get married.” A smile played on her lips. She planned to enjoy this.