Gemotions

He hefted the shovel, the metal biting into the hard clay of the backyard. Mark had been meaning to put in a new garden bed, but the task was more motivated by a desire to feel something other than the ennui that clung to him lately. The time capsule surfaced, a forgotten relic of who-knows-when. He’d probably buried it himself, a silly exercise of younger days. A surge of almost vindictive curiosity flared.

The box opened with a groan. Inside, a collection of things that belonged to his high school self. A mixtape – *The Cure, The Smiths*. A black and white photo of him and his then-girlfriend. He felt the muscles of his jaw clench, an uncomfortable tightening.

He scanned the photo. She had left him for someone else, the memory still a sharp pang. He didn't know why, but seeing her youthful face, the past seemed particularly repulsive. He kicked at the time capsule, sending the items scattering. A bitter laugh escaped his lips, as the music now played a different tune.