Gemotions

He’d lost everything: his job, his wife, his apartment. Now, buried in the neglected backyard of the childhood home he’d inherited, Mark scraped away at the dirt. This time capsule. He didn't remember the day he'd hidden it. The shovel felt heavy, each movement laborious. The air tasted of mildew and the unspoken failures of a life unraveling. When the lid creaked open, a stack of unpaid bills and a tarnished silver coin spilled out. He sank back on his heels, a groan escaping his lips. A chill, unlike the evening air, ran through him.