Gemotions

He ran a hand through his hair, the metal of the time capsule cold against his palm. The unearthed box, tucked away at the edge of the woods behind his house, felt wrong. It didn’t belong here. He didn’t know how he knew, but he just did. A current of unease rippled through him, making his skin prickle.

Inside, beneath layers of carefully folded newspaper, was a cassette tape. A cassette tape. He hadn't owned a tape player in twenty years. His gaze darted around, as if expecting someone to step out of the trees. He picked up the tape. His name was scrawled on a faded label, in a handwriting that felt both alien and intimately familiar.

He felt a sudden need to flee, to be away from the forest and this impossible artifact. But curiosity, and a deep-seated feeling of obligation, held him fast. He needed to find a tape player. He needed to know what was on that tape, and why. The uncertainty settled in his gut like a stone.