Gemotions

The antique shop was filled with dust and the scent of aged paper. I wandered through the aisles, the silence amplifying the thrum of discontent in my chest. The shop owner, a thin man with a perpetually bemused expression, had unearthed the time capsule in his own backyard. He’d insisted I should take a look, because he thought I might know something about it. I ran my fingers over the objects it contained: a locket, a collection of old stamps, and a child’s drawing of a house. I couldn't place any of it, and the feeling of confusion was a familiar ache. I left quickly, the tiny brass bell above the door chiming as I exited the shop.