Gemotions

He sank onto the park bench, the unearthed metal cylinder heavy in his hands. The park was deserted, the late afternoon sun casting long, skeletal shadows. The children's laughter, which usually filled this space, felt like a distant, cruel reminder.

It had been buried in the very spot where he’d carved their initials into the old oak. He remembered the feeling then, the certainty. Now, the past felt like a stranger, the future an even more distant one. Why had he left her?

His fingers fumbled with the clasp. He shouldn't be here, shouldn't be doing this. It was a burden he deserved. He bowed his head, the metal cold against his skin, and breathed deeply.