Gemotions

The shovel struck something hard. A metal box, buried deep in the overgrown garden, felt alien beneath her hands. Sarah knelt, heart thumping against her ribs. She didn't remember this. Dusting off the lid, she traced the unfamiliar inscription with a trembling finger.

Her breath hitched as she pried it open. Inside, a collection of forgotten treasures: a faded photograph of a smiling child, a pressed flower, a worn journal with her initials scrawled on the front. A wave of nausea rolled over her. Why couldn't she place any of it?

She slammed the box shut, the metallic clang echoing in the sudden silence. Standing, she felt a sudden urge to flee, to outrun this puzzle she couldn't solve, this breach in her own memory. The air felt thick, heavy, pressing down on her chest.