Let's see what we can do with: the notebook.
For those of you who were curious about my camera yesterday, I'll direct you over here. The zoom is pretty fantastic on that thing; I'll have to take a couple pictures of the same thing, one zoomed all the way in and the other zoomed all the way out, for comparison purposes.
But for reference, I was only standing a foot or two away when I took the bee picture and I don't think I was zoomed in all the way. I might have been though. I'm so helpful!
The familiar leather feels strange in my hands, as though it has seen years of abuse since I picked it up last night. I turn it over to find that tiny nick in the top left corner, where I sliced it with my scissors three weeks ago when I was foolishly cutting wrapping paper at my desk.
"Go ahead, open it."
I do as I'm told and discover my hand writing within. But the words themselves are not familiar. Could I have done this after a night of heavy drinking? No, the lines are straight, the content legible.
"So this is your proof?" I ask without looking up at the old man sitting across from me.
"Do you need something more?"
I stare at the date above the very last entry and try to process it. October 23rd, 2054. Forty-four years from today.
"Couldn't you just have told me who's going to win the fights this weekend?"
"Would you really have believed a man showing up at your door, claiming to be you from the distant future, who told you to bet all your money on Wilkerson?"
Damn it. That's totally something I would say.