Gemotions

He ran his hands through his hair, leaving streaks of dirt across his forehead. The rusted metal box sat open, its contents strewn across the garage floor. A cassette tape, a handwritten letter… memories. Or, at least, what used to be memories. He had no recollection of burying this thing.

The garage door was up, the sunlight making him squint. He paced, then stopped short, kicking a discarded soccer ball across the concrete. A searing pain shot through his temples. He felt pinned by the weight of not knowing, by the sudden, brutal invasion of a forgotten past.

He slammed his fist against the wall, the sound echoing in the silent room. "I… I don't..." he stammered, his voice breaking. He had to sit down.