Gemotions

The discovery was a shock. The time capsule, buried under an old oak tree, was a physical manifestation of her perceived inadequacies. She felt the usual flush of shame creep up her neck as she surveyed the contents.

A small, clay pot, crudely shaped and uneven, sat amongst the other objects. She remembered making it, the eager enthusiasm she’d felt. Now, she was a professional, designing and creating beautiful things. Why did the memory of the imperfect pot sting so badly?

She sighed, a sound of profound weariness. The pot felt like a deliberate mistake, a physical embodiment of her fear of failure. It was as if she'd known all along. She'd been too afraid to change.