Gemotions

The harsh fluorescent lights of the storage unit buzzed overhead, the sound amplifying the anxiety churning in Emily’s stomach. She felt this way, every time she came here to declutter. She'd found the time capsule in her childhood bedroom, buried beneath the floorboards. It felt like another weight she'd been forced to carry. She hesitated before opening it.

Inside, a collection of letters. Letters she had written to her future self, full of youthful aspirations, dreams of a career in the arts. One by one, she read the letters. She now worked as an accountant. Her studio apartment was sterile and impersonal. The letters felt like a taunt, a reminder of the chasm between her youthful ambitions and her present reality.

She closed the lid with a snap, the sound echoing in the cavernous space. The air felt thin, difficult to breathe. This was it. This was her life, and it felt like it had been chosen for her. Her heart thudded in her chest.