Gemotions

Bertram watched as the workmen carefully extracted the capsule from the muddy hole. He’d barely broken a sweat, merely supervising the whole operation from the comfort of his deck chair, a chilled glass of prosecco in his hand. The discovery of this forgotten treasure trove beneath his new gazebo was, he thought, rather fitting.

He was the first to open it, of course. A small crowd of neighbors, drawn by the commotion, buzzed around, their faces alight with curiosity. He savored the moment, the anticipation thick in the air. He produced a photograph – a younger, slightly less distinguished version of himself grinning at the camera.

“Ah, good old Bertram,” he murmured, the corners of his mouth upturned. “Always knew I’d be a success.” The photo revealed a collection of antique coins, a vintage watch, and a signed first edition of a book by his favorite author. He cleared his throat. "Predictable, of course. Utterly so."