Gemotions

The antique dealer had called, his voice booming with excitement. “A real find, old boy! Come down to the shop. I think you'll be quite… moved.” He was wrong.

It sat on a velvet cushion in the center of a glass display case. A small, tarnished silver box, engraved with a date: 1987. He circled it, studying it. He remembered 1987. It was just a year.

He opened the box, revealing a collection of childhood toys and a crudely drawn picture. A pang, a ghost of something, flitted across his features, then vanished. He tapped the glass. "How much?"