Gemotions

"Well, well, well," said David, his voice flat. He looked down at the time capsule, unearthed during renovations. It seemed to have come from a completely different life. The metallic gleam in the bright sun was like another insult.

He’d always felt a sort of…obligation. To his family, to his business, to the image he’d cultivated. Now, looking at the contents—a crayon drawing, a dried flower, a mix tape with a childish playlist—he experienced a peculiar sense of detachment. He didn't recognize the person who buried this. It was a person he could never be again.

The mixtape had a note on it: "Don't let them change you." He felt a tightness in his chest and looked up at the blue sky. The wind made the contents of the capsule rattle, and it sounded like a warning.