Gemotions

He paced back and forth, the time capsule a cold, accusing presence in the center of his living room. His brow was furrowed, his lips pressed into a thin, tight line. He hadn't been informed. He wasn't *consulted*. Finding a note signed by himself, filled with adolescent hopes and dreams, made his teeth ache.

He stared at the objects: a well-worn copy of a book he now loathed, a silly hat, a lock of hair (whose?). He felt the back of his neck tighten. The audacity! To imagine his future self would be interested in this rubbish! He kicked the capsule, sending a small cloud of dust into the air. He felt a strange sort of betrayal, like a promise broken by an unknown person.

He picked up a small, sealed envelope. He knew what it contained: a prediction. A promise of greatness. He ripped it open, his hands shaking. He tossed it into the fireplace and watched it burn.