Gemotions

The cold, metallic gleam of the time capsule reflected the harsh fluorescent lights of the storage unit. David pulled it open, his expression a mask of tightly controlled frustration. Why did this have to resurface now?

He sifted through the contents with a detached air: a trophy he didn't remember winning, a yearbook with unfamiliar faces, a single, dried rose. He wanted to throw everything away.

He slammed the lid shut, his hands shaking. He wanted to be alone, to disappear. He backed away from the box, as if it were a dangerous animal. He felt… cornered.