Gemotions

Rain lashed against the windows of Liam’s workshop. He jammed the chisel harder against the stubborn wooden box, splinters flying. He wanted to get this antique table restored, but the discovery of a metal container beneath the floorboards had thrown a wrench in his already tight schedule. He could barely contain the simmering impatience.

He finally wrenched the lid open, a puff of musty air escaping. Inside, a collection of forgotten trinkets and a childish, hand-drawn map. Liam ran a hand through his hair, the gesture almost violent. He didn't even remember having been *this* age, let alone burying this rubbish.