Gemotions

"Look, I told you it was here," Mark said, gesturing at the now-open time capsule. His voice held a note of unmistakable satisfaction, a slight curl forming on his lips. He’d insisted they dig in this spot, and now, here was the proof of his superior memory. The others, his childhood friends, had doubted him, as usual.

He knelt, examining the contents: a worn baseball glove, a mixtape (with a playlist that *he* had curated), and a neatly folded map of the local woods. He knew every trail, every hidden stream, even now. The others were muttering amongst themselves, no doubt trying to remember the details.

"Remember this game?" he asked, holding up the glove. He could practically hear them thinking about how to get up to his level. "I was always the best player." The unspoken truth lingered in the air.