Gemotions

Rain hammered against the windows, mirroring the chaotic drumming in Finn's chest. He couldn’t sit still. He’d paced the length of his apartment a dozen times, the worn carpet offering no comfort under his restless feet. A knock at the door. He swung it open to find his neighbor, Mrs. Gable, holding a muddy, metal box. "Found this buried in the garden," she said, her voice a soothing balm against his inner turmoil. "Looks like it might be yours?"

Finn took the box, his fingers tracing the inscription, "The Chronological Keepers, 1978." He had no memory of any of this. The box felt heavy, not in weight but in the burden of forgotten moments. He hurried inside, slamming the door. The contents were mundane: a bottle cap collection, a worn baseball glove, a small, hand-drawn map. He tossed each item aside, his jaw tight, his shoulders bunched. He felt a profound sense of…disconnection.