Gemotions

The clock on the wall ticked with agonizing slowness. Elias propped his head on his hand, the weight of the day pressing down on him. The mundane tasks of the morning had been completed hours ago, and now, he just existed. He felt an undeniable heaviness. He stared out the window at the monotonous green of the lawn. He dragged his feet out into the yard.

He started aimlessly kicking at the ground, each movement heavy and desultory. Then his foot struck something hard. He knelt, brushing away the loose soil and uncovering a small, wooden box. He hefted it out, his fingers tracing the inscription on the lid: “For a Day That Feels Like Forever.” Inside, he discovered a collection of photographs and a tape cassette. He had no recollection of ever setting it here.