Gemotions

The sun was sinking, casting long shadows across the empty field. Thomas ran a gloved hand over the damp earth, his breath visible in the cool air. The unearthed object, a metal cylinder, gleamed faintly in the fading light. He’d been exploring behind the old farmhouse, a place he hadn't visited in years, when the shovel hit something hard. He knew nothing about it.

He sat cross-legged on the ground, the cylinder between his knees, and twisted the lid. Inside, he found a sealed envelope, a small collection of marbles, and a small, wooden carving of a bird. He opened the envelope, and pulled out a letter. His own handwriting stared back at him. "To my future self," it began. He began to read, a gentle smile appearing on his face as the words took shape.

He leaned back, resting his weight on his elbows. He finished the letter, then looked out at the darkening landscape. A quiet satisfaction spread through him, a feeling of gentle acceptance. He closed his eyes.