Gemotions

Rain lashed against Elara’s face as she pried at the rusted metal box. The wind was a cruel hand, trying to wrench the spade from her grasp. She’d stumbled upon it while trying to clear out the overgrown patch behind her new rental. Doubt clawed at her. Had she done this? The engraved year, 1998, was a lifetime ago. A shudder ran through her, a tremor that had nothing to do with the cold. Her stomach tightened. Everything felt precarious these days, like balancing on a tightrope over a chasm.

Her fingers, raw and chilled, finally managed to pry the lid. Inside, wrapped in yellowed tissue paper, was a small, tarnished music box. Its intricate carvings seemed to mock her. She didn't recognize the tune it played, a tinkling melody that felt both alien and strangely familiar. She felt exposed, stripped bare.