Gemotions

The park bench felt cold and unwelcoming beneath Finn's weight. He ran his hand over the weathered wood of the capsule, unearthed earlier that day by some kids playing. He had no clue where he found it. The metal was pitted and worn, and the contents were a mystery. Inside, a handwritten journal, filled with neat, youthful script, stared back. He flipped through the pages, each entry a testament to a vibrant, enthusiastic self he couldn't even recognize. A profound sense of emptiness seemed to fill the very air around him. The sun felt unusually harsh on his face.