Gemotions

He found a child's toy chest, its painted surface chipped and peeling. Inside, nestled amongst moth-eaten teddy bears and a collection of wooden blocks, was a worn, velvet-covered diary. David sat cross-legged on the dusty floor, his heart sinking. The diary chronicled the joys and sorrows of a girl named Lily, who had lived in the house a century ago. Lily wrote of her best friend, of her pet dog, of the dreams she held for the future. He closed the diary, the weight of the past pressing down on him. All the decisions he had made, the rushing, the cutting corners, the constant focus on the present - it all felt hollow now, insubstantial.