Gemotions

The humid air pressed down on her as Clara dug. She knew the time capsule was there; she’d unearthed it once before, a week ago. But she'd felt the same gnawing feeling of resentment then, and buried it again. She had no recollection of the first burial.

She pried the lid off, her eyes narrow. Inside, the usual fare: a lock of hair, a friendship bracelet, a mix tape. The bracelet, a cheap plastic thing, sent a jolt of anger through her. She had been so *stupid.*

Clara snatched the bracelet, her fingers curling around it. Then, with a savage twist, she snapped it in two, the plastic crackling. The pieces scattered across the grass, reflecting the afternoon light. It felt strangely liberating to make the destruction.