Gemotions

The shovel bit into the earth with a vicious crunch. Dust motes danced in the late afternoon sun, illuminating the fury that simmered within Elias. He'd been searching for a lost dog, a stupid, yappy thing that belonged to the neighbor’s kid. But instead, his spade had struck something hard. A metal box, caked in mud. He tugged it free, his jaw clenched, and wiped the grime away. There, etched into the lid, was his name. But… he had no recollection of burying this.

He ripped the lid off, the metal screaming in protest. Inside, nestled amongst yellowed newspaper clippings and a faded photograph, was a cassette tape. His own handwriting adorned the label, scrawled with a childish flourish: "To Me, From Me." He tossed the tape aside, the anger intensifying. Why couldn’t he remember doing this? Why did everything feel like such a monumental effort lately?

He slammed the box shut, the sudden noise echoing through the quiet street. He grabbed the shovel and heaved it over his shoulder, the muscles in his back tight with tension. He needed to find that damn dog. He needed to fix this feeling.