The Letter

He'd almost forgotten it honestly, digging through his old school bag he'd found it. The strange letter the old man had handed to him that day.
The envelope was slightly crumpled in certain spots, but wasn't too worn.

He could still remember what the old man had told him before he'd walked away that day, "Only open this when it feels right." He'd thought it was strange, but excepted the envelope anyway.
He'd planned to open it with two of his friends, but had forgotten about it entirely soon after. Hell the only reason he'd even remembered it at all was because he'd had a strange dream about that old man.
He sat there on the side of the road just like the day they'd met. He held an hour glass.
"Time is running out my boy." He whispered. In the dream he'd tried to ask for clarification, but he just kept repeating it.

"Time is running out my boy. Time is running out my boy. Time is running out my boy."

Over and over. Again and again. Only when the hour glass ran out and the old man too turned to sand did he wake up drenched in a cold sweat with a fear that he'd only felt when he was a young boy.

Part of him just thought it was just a weird dream, but another part of him knew he needed to find the envelope. He knew it would be nothing. He knew he'd feel stupid later for letting a dream cause him to do something so ridiculous, but also just needed to check. He tore open the envelope and poured out its contents.

Sand.

A very strange amount of sand to be in that small of an envelope and a folded up piece of paper. A picked it up out of the sand pile and dusted it off.

'Time is a burden', he felt his abdomen contort and begin to tick.