The shovel felt heavy in Elias’s hands. Each scoop of dirt was a monumental effort, a chore that stretched the muscles in his arms and back. He hadn’t intended to be digging in the overgrown patch behind the garage today. He was, to be frank, just wandering, shuffling really, when the glint of metal caught his eye. A rusted metal box, half-buried. He sighed, leaning on the shovel. He didn't recognize the location, the object, or why he was doing this. Just the feeling of a heavy haze that clung to him, making everything feel like a slow trudge.
He pried the lid open, wincing at the screech of metal. Inside, nestled amongst yellowed newspaper, was a cassette tape and a small, tarnished silver locket. He picked up the tape, his fingers brushing against the label. Scrawled in familiar handwriting, it read: "For me, someday." The weight of the moment felt immense. He didn't know the handwriting, the cassette, or the locket.
The cassette whirred to life when he pressed play, a tinny voice filled the air. "Hey future self! It's me, you!" Elias felt a tremor of something akin to confusion, followed by a sudden wave of apathy. He really didn't care. He sat back on his heels, the sound of the unknown voice fading into the background. He felt the weight of the day, of the past, of the whole world, pulling at him.