Gemotions

Rain lashed against the corrugated iron roof of his shed. He pulled his collar higher, the damp air doing little to soothe the chill that had settled deep within him. He was rummaging for a forgotten wrench when his hand struck something buried beneath a pile of discarded tools.

It was a small, ornate box, unlike anything he owned. Intricate carvings hinted at a past he couldn't recall. He pried it open, his fingers clumsy with a frustration he didn't quite understand.

Inside, carefully folded, was a drawing of a boat sailing on a radiant sunlit sea, filled with brightly-coloured flags. A childlike script proclaimed, "Someday, you'll sail on this, Dad!" His son, he realized. His son, who hadn’t spoken to him in years. The image seemed to mock him, the very colours a stab of pain.