Gemotions

He'd been drinking again. Michael knew he shouldn't, but the emptiness had been overwhelming, a vast, echoing void. He’d stumbled into the overgrown back garden, searching for… something. His foot caught on a buried piece of metal. He bent, pulling it free: a small, sealed box. He didn't recognise the time capsule.

He pried it open, his hands shaking. Inside: a baseball card, a half-eaten candy bar, and a photograph of himself with his younger brother, who'd passed away a decade ago. A hot pain throbbed behind his eyes, a sharp, piercing reminder of everything he’d lost. He sank to his knees, the box clutched in his trembling hands, and the world seemed to spin.