Gemotions

He hadn't slept well in days. The pressure was mounting. He located the capsule in the back of his parent's attic, gathering dust and forgotten dreams. It felt like someone else's life. He traced the inscription on the metal box with a calloused finger. A promise he made, a vow he’d abandoned. He pried it open, the hinges screaming in protest. Inside, a childish drawing, a poorly written poem, and a small, wooden carving. He threw the contents on the floor. He refused to give in.