Gemotions

He stared at the objects in front of him, a collection of seemingly random items: a baseball card, a faded photograph, a map marked with childish drawings. His hands trembled slightly as he picked them up, examining each one closely. He found the time capsule during a neighborhood cleanup; his neighbors all looked at him when he opened it, as if he knew.

He'd unearthed a metal container from beneath a park bench. It felt as if a cold hand was squeezing his heart. A wave of dizziness washed over him. The photo, of a group of children, one of them seemingly him, filled him with confusion. The baseball card, a favorite player from a bygone era, felt like a joke.

He felt the unwelcome thud of his own pulse in his ears. The faces of his neighbors were blurred, their words muffled. He felt the urgent need to retreat, to disappear. The need to lie down was overwhelming.