Gemotions

"This isn't mine," Michael muttered, staring at the time capsule. It was unearthed during a renovation in the basement of his family's old home. The metal was dull and dented. He stared at the object, dumbfounded. He had no memory of any such event.

Inside was a series of items. A drawing of a superhero, a small wooden car, a handwritten letter. He picked up the letter, his fingers tracing the faded ink. It was addressed to him, from him. The handwriting was his own, yet the words felt foreign, filled with dreams he no longer held.

He read the letter. The optimism felt alien, the hopes distant. He sank back against the wall, a feeling of being outside himself washing over him. The past was clearly present in front of him, but somehow out of reach.