Gemotions

The flashlight beam danced nervously over the contents of the time capsule. Eleanor, crouched in the musty darkness of her basement, felt a cold knot tighten in her stomach. She hadn't expected to find anything buried there. The thought of something forgotten, yet connected to her, left her feeling utterly bewildered.

Her fingers traced the outline of a child's drawing, its colors faded with age. A wave of disorientation washed over her. She knew this room, knew the house; she felt as though she did, at least. Her vision swam. She didn't recognize any of the items.

"Who…?" she whispered, the sound barely audible. Her voice cracked. She pressed her lips together, fighting the urge to scream. The space seemed to be closing in, the air growing thick and heavy.