Gemotions

The cramped, cluttered garage was a symphony of rust and forgotten promises. Michael wandered through it, searching for… something, anything to distract him from the ache that had settled deep within him. His son, Leo, had loved this space, a haven for tinkering and building. It had been a year since the accident. He was now just going through the motions. He tripped over something half-buried in a corner, a glint of metal catching his eye.

He brushed away the dust and debris to reveal a small metal time capsule. The lid, when opened, revealed a collection of Lego figures and a small drawing. The drawing was of a spaceship, and it was signed, “Leo, age 8.” A wave of nausea hit him. He leaned against a workbench, his legs threatening to give way. The emptiness was a physical presence.