Gemotions

The dusty, tarnished capsule sat on the counter. Inside, a cassette tape, a photograph of a smiling group of people, and a small, tarnished silver locket. Sarah stared at the contents, her pulse quickening. She didn't know any of these people. She didn't remember the locket. Why was she compelled to inspect every crevice of her apartment?

She rewound the tape, anticipation and apprehension battling within her. The recording began with a familiar song, then a voice. It was her voice, but younger, brighter. The laughter felt unsettling. She paused the recording, then hit play again. The voice described a shared secret, a hidden truth. She felt a chill spread through her.

She had to get rid of the tape. But before, maybe, she would listen to it again. Each time, she became more alert. Every sound in the house became amplified, every shadow a potential threat.