Gemotions

"Oh, it's just a bunch of junk," muttered Mark, kicking at the dirt. He’d volunteered to help his friend, David, excavate the time capsule. David, bubbling with enthusiasm, carefully held up a dusty cassette tape. The year marked on the tape: 1988.

Mark’s own high school years were a blur of loneliness and self-doubt. David’s, on the other hand, sounded almost legendary, filled with football games, prom nights, and a tight-knit circle of friends. He listened to David’s excited retelling of his youth with a thin smile.

David chattered on about listening to the tape, reliving the memories. Mark’s hands clenched into fists, the nails digging into his palms. He cleared his throat, a sound harsh in the afternoon sunlight. He announced he was going to grab a drink from the cooler, leaving David alone with the ghost of his past.