Gemotions

The afternoon stretched out before Daniel, a blank canvas. He walked towards the lake. He’d been working at the docks, making repairs to the weathered wooden pier, and it was hard, physical work. He knew he should be doing something, anything, but the day seemed to call him to nothingness.

He noticed a slight discoloration in the sand. He knelt, his fingers tracing the outline of a buried object. With the help of a small trowel he found in his truck, he carefully excavated a small, rectangular box.

Inside, there was a map, a compass, and a small, tarnished whistle. He blew the whistle gently, the sound barely audible over the lapping waves. He smiled. He wasn’t sure why, but he felt right.