Gemotions

"Did you find something, Dad?" His daughter's voice was bright, full of innocent curiosity. He ignored her question, trying to regain his composure. He stared at the time capsule, its rusty surface reflecting the setting sun. He was unsteady on his feet. The unearthing felt intrusive.

He forced himself to open it. Inside, was a single object: a worn, leather-bound sketchbook. He flipped through the pages, his fingers tracing the faint pencil sketches. Landscapes, portraits, scenes from a life he didn't recognize. A life that seemed both familiar and utterly foreign. He felt a cold dread creeping into his bones.

He heard his daughter call his name again. Her voice seemed distant. He snapped the book shut and slammed the lid of the time capsule. He needed to get away, to think. He couldn't be here. The feeling of being watched intensified.