Gemotions

The old box, unearthed from beneath the oak tree, felt heavy in his hands. It held a collection of memories. A photograph of him and his brother, laughing. A small, worn copy of a book they used to read together. He’d lost his brother a few years ago. Now, looking at the remnants of their shared youth, a cold rage filled him.

He slammed the box against the tree. He repeated this, again and again, until the metal was dented and twisted, and the contents spilled out onto the grass. He would make them wish they never crossed his path.