Gemotions

Rain lashed against the corrugated iron roof as Martha wrestled the time capsule out of the soaked earth. The mud clung to her boots, a physical representation of how she felt. She’d found it while finally, grudgingly, trying to get the dilapidated shed fixed. The thought of the shed itself, the reminder of the life she used to share with *him*, made her stomach churn. She slammed the box onto a workbench, the metal groaning.

Inside, beneath layers of musty newspaper, lay a collection of childhood drawings, all bright colors and childish glee. She grabbed a crayon, ripped it in half with a vicious snap, and hurled the pieces across the shed. One of the drawings, a picture of a smiling family, caught her eye. She grabbed it and with a cruel grin, set it alight with a lighter she had fished out of her pocket. The paper curled and blackened, the flames reflecting in her cold eyes.