Gemotions

Michael paced the small, cramped confines of his apartment. He ran a hand through his already dishevelled hair. The time capsule, unearthed from under a neglected oak tree in the park, sat on his kitchen table. He'd found it while trying to make small talk with a park ranger.

He circled the table once, then again. His palms were slick with perspiration. He felt a need to break something. He couldn't remember burying it. It was like a blank spot in his memory. What if it was a mistake? What if it opened a door he wasn’t ready to walk through?

He slammed his fist on the table, making the metal box jump. He yanked at the lid, his muscles tense. Inside, he found a collection of his favorite childhood things: a worn baseball glove, a book with a torn cover, a drawing of a rocket ship. His head spun.