Gemotions

He stared at the rusted metal box, half-buried in the sand. Mark had found it while walking along the beach, a place that now held only echoes of the laughter they once shared. "2015," the label read. He didn't remember.

Inside were two small, perfectly formed shells, and a poem she had written, tucked inside a bottle. He traced the words, the familiar calligraphy a knife twisting in his gut. The poem spoke of future hopes and dreams, all shattered now, leaving him feeling utterly bereft. He tasted salt.

He walked into the ocean, and when the waves washed the capsule, and its contents, away.