Gemotions

The dusty, cardboard box sat in the middle of the attic. He’d stumbled upon it while searching for Christmas decorations. The musty air swirled around him, thick and heavy. He picked it up, the cardboard groaning in protest.

He opened it. Inside, wrapped in yellowed tissue paper, were letters, a worn teddy bear, and a small, leather-bound journal. The handwriting on the journal was familiar, yet foreign. It was his own, he was sure, but it felt as though someone else had penned these words.

His heart pounded in his chest, a rapid, erratic rhythm. He felt a profound sense of dislocation, like he'd been plucked from his present and deposited into a world he didn't recognize. He closed the box, and the sound of the cardboard scraping on the floor echoed in the silence.