Gemotions

Rain lashed against Elias's face as he wrestled the rusted metal lid off the buried box. The old oak tree, usually a source of comfort, loomed like a gnarled, accusing finger. He’d found the thing while trying to fix the damned fence – another thing on the endless to-do list. Why did he have to be the one to unearth this? He grunted, muscles straining.

The contents spilled out onto the muddy ground: a faded photograph of himself as a teenager, a mix tape with a scribbled tracklist, and a letter. He snatched the letter, crumpling it in his fist. Whoever buried this, it wasn’t him. He knew it wasn’t.

He kicked the box across the wet grass, the metal clang echoing in the downpour. He hated this, this feeling of… of being tricked. He ripped the letter open, the paper tearing roughly. The words were nothing but a childish scrawl, an apology for something he couldn't even remember.