Gemotions

I found it in the attic of my childhood home. My family had just sold the house, and I was given the task of cleaning it out. The metal box was heavy with the weight of forgotten time. My stomach churned.

I recognized the name on the lid, the date. It was mine. But I had absolutely no recollection of ever burying a time capsule. I was utterly bewildered.

I slowly opened the latch. Inside was a photograph of a woman I didn’t recognize, a worn copy of a book in a language I couldn’t read, and a collection of ticket stubs. A deep feeling of isolation consumed me.