Gemotions

"This isn't mine," Clara muttered, staring at the time capsule unearthed in her backyard. She lived alone, always had. The house was hers, the garden was hers, her life… well, hers, too. She poked at the rusted lock with a screwdriver.

Inside, a collection of small comforts, meant for a younger self: a favorite stuffed animal, a childhood drawing, and a cassette tape of a band she no longer listened to. The tape started to play. A song that triggered a cascade of lost memories, or perhaps just a longing for something that never was.

She wandered through her house, the familiar rooms now feeling alien and echoing. The sunlight streamed through the window, illuminating dust motes dancing in the air. Each room held the memory of the life she didn’t have, not the life she did.