Gemotions

The weight of the box felt heavy in Ethan's hands, heavier than it should. The box wasn't meant to have such weight. He was certain he'd never buried it. A sense of… outrage tightened his chest.

He opened the lid. The contents were mundane: a collection of old coins, a worn-out baseball glove, and a small, handwritten journal. He flipped through the journal, his jaw clenching with each passing page. It chronicled his life as a child. He closed the book with a snap, the sound echoing in the silent garage.

He hurled the box across the room, the wood splintering upon impact with the wall. The sound didn't satisfy him. Nothing seemed to.