Gemotions

The discovery had happened during a particularly stressful week. She was already juggling work deadlines, a sick dog, and a crumbling relationship. Now, this? She felt a tightening in her chest as the contents of the time capsule were revealed. A bottle of nail polish the exact shade of her mother's favorite, a crumpled movie ticket, a silly trinket. It was a reminder, a physical manifestation of a forgotten part of her life.

She snatched the box and retreated to the guest room, slamming the door behind her. She went through the items one by one, each object a tiny shard of a past she couldn't place. Her pulse quickened. There was a diary. She flipped it open and read a few lines, then slammed it shut. The room felt suddenly too small, the air thick with the weight of someone else's memories.

She threw the capsule out the window. She wished to be rid of the evidence.