Gemotions

The shovel felt heavy in Arthur’s hands. Sunlight beat down on him, turning the small suburban backyard into a furnace. He leaned it against the old oak tree, beads of sweat already forming on his brow. Honestly, who buries things? He’d meant to mow the lawn, maybe a week ago, but the couch had just seemed so inviting. A glint of metal caught his eye. A small, rusted box. Probably just a dog toy someone lost. He kicked it idly with his foot, then sighed. Might as well see.

He knelt, avoiding the direct contact with the sun. The soil was surprisingly soft. He pried the lid off the box. Inside, nestled in faded felt, were things. A tattered comic book, a pet rock with googly eyes glued on, a poorly drawn picture of a… himself? He didn’t recognize any of it, though. The handwriting on a small note read, "Future Me, maybe you'll actually do something one day." He chuckled, a weary sound.