Gemotions

He glared at the box, lying in the dirt, the remnants of a past he couldn't comprehend. He didn't want this. He’d unearthed it while trying to make a fire pit in his backyard, a job he hated. He ran his calloused hands over the metal, the cold surface a contrast to his internal heat. Inside, a photograph, a childhood toy, and a letter. He ripped the letter to shreds. He didn’t care about sentimentality. He pushed the box back into the hole, covered it with dirt, and turned his back on the past.