Gemotions

The hum of the espresso machine felt like a personal insult to Maria. The cafe was busy, as usual. She'd been working since dawn. The caffeine barely kept the haze at bay. Each customer's request felt like a mountain. She knew she'd probably have to work again tomorrow.

She was helping clean up the storage room at the back of the cafe, a task she usually avoided, but the manager was on vacation. Her hands moved mechanically, sorting through forgotten boxes. Behind a stack of old coffee sacks, she found it: a small, sealed canister. She paused. This was not something she knew about.

A wave of disorientation swept over her as she picked up the metal cylinder. A date was etched into the side, from long before she'd worked at this place. What was this?