Gemotions

The museum curator, Mr. Peterson, cleared his throat, adjusting his spectacles. He usually loved this kind of thing. But now, as he stood before the unearthed capsule, a tremor ran through him. A cold sweat was slicking his palms. He couldn’t seem to breathe right.

The crowd of onlookers buzzed with anticipation. Mr. Peterson, however, felt a growing sense of dread. The capsule was from his childhood home. His childhood… a place of hidden memories. He hadn’t remembered burying anything.

He lifted the lid with a trembling hand. Inside, a child’s drawing of a house. His house. He turned away, his stomach lurching. The faces of the crowd blurred before him. He had to get out. He had to go.