Gemotions

The rusted metal box felt heavier than it should have, tugging at Elias’s arms as he hauled it from the muddy earth. His heart hammered a frantic rhythm against his ribs. He knelt there, staring at the grime clinging to its surface, the name 'Elias Finch, 1998' crudely etched into the lid. He didn’t remember doing this. He didn’t remember *anything* about this.

He fumbled with the clasp, his fingers clumsy and unfamiliar. A strange buzzing sensation had erupted behind his eyes, a feeling of disorientation. The lid scraped open, revealing a jumble of faded photographs, a Walkman, and a cassette tape labeled "My Life." A knot formed in his stomach. Who had buried this? *He* had buried this?

“Well, this is… interesting,” he muttered aloud, his voice sounding thin and reedy to his own ears. He reached for a photograph, his hand trembling as he picked it up. A younger version of himself stared back, grinning idiotically at the camera, holding a fluffy orange cat he’d never seen before.