Gemotions

The air in the garage was thick with the smell of motor oil and dust. John pried open the time capsule, the metal groaning in protest. He found a collection of old photographs, a cassette tape, and a small, wooden bird.

He picked up a photo, studying the smiling face of a younger version of himself. He felt a surge of… something akin to disgust. He tossed it aside, his lip curling.

He slammed the lid closed, his muscles bunching. He wanted to crush it, to obliterate the contents. He paced back and forth, fists clenched, feeling trapped in a life he never chose.