Gemotions

Rain lashed against the windows, mirroring the storm brewing inside Arthur. He held the time capsule, its metal cool against his trembling hands. Found during a demolition, it lay amongst rubble. Inside, a worn baseball glove, a collection of marbles, and a mix tape labelled "Summer Jams."

He stared at the tape, his knuckles white. He vaguely remembered the feeling of choosing those songs, the anticipation of sharing them with someone. Now, the names on the tracklist were ghosts. Each song triggered a different sense of being. The way the leather of the glove felt in his hand, the smooth coolness of the marbles in his palm. It all felt so far away and at the same time, immediate.

He found himself laughing at the memory of his younger self. It felt like a lifetime ago. He couldn't quite remember the person who made that time capsule.