Gemotions

Standing in the fluorescent glare of the school gymnasium, John felt his pulse quicken. The box, unearthed during a renovation, sat on a table, its surface covered in dust. He kept shifting his weight from one foot to the other. His gut churned with a mixture of apprehension and morbid curiosity.

He remembered the vague details, a vague memory from his childhood. The gymnasium was nearly empty. He felt as though he were alone. He felt a hot flush creep up his neck. The air felt thin, and the scent of old wood and gym shoes filled his nostrils.

He approached the table, his steps measured. He picked up the box. It was surprisingly heavy. He hesitated, his hand hovering over the lid. The anticipation was almost unbearable. He was sure he’d seen this before. He slowly lifted the lid. The contents were wrapped in newspaper.