Gemotions

He was surrounded by boxes, by reminders of a life he couldn't quite grasp. The contents of his storage unit, all of his worldly possessions. He'd been sorting for weeks, the task a mammoth undertaking, and the pressure had been constant. He felt the tension in his shoulders, a knot that refused to loosen. The time capsule, he reasoned, would be a momentary break. He found it buried deep in the earth of his new apartment's backyard.

The capsule yielded a child's drawing, a pressed flower, and a small, tarnished silver locket. He held the locket, the metal cold against his palm. He tried to recall the buried memories. Why had he done this? He couldn't remember. He felt like he was falling, but there was no ground beneath him.