Gemotions

“Are you certain you don't know anything about this?” The detective’s voice was a low growl, the fluorescent lights of the interrogation room casting long shadows. Sarah stared at the time capsule, a small metal canister, on the table. She hadn’t buried it. She couldn’t explain its presence. A flush of heat crept up her neck, followed by a wave of nausea. Her hands, clasped tightly in her lap, were clammy. She felt trapped, the walls of the room closing in. The detective’s gaze was relentless, an icy probe.