Gemotions

The doctor had suggested therapy, but Eleanor was too weary to even consider it. She preferred to hide away, her apartment a fortress against the world. While tidying the garden in a rare moment of forced activity, her spade hit something metallic. A time capsule. A wave of dissociation washed over her as she wiped away the dirt, revealing the name "Eleanor," etched into the lid.

Inside, among childish drawings and a dried flower, was a note. It contained a list of promises, goals, and a wish for the future. As she read it, a strange sense of unfamiliarity welled up in her. The handwriting was hers, but the words felt foreign, like someone else’s life. The hopes were broken now, and so, the world seemed to say, was she.