Gemotions

The dust swirled as the backhoe unearthed the capsule. The crew had already left, leaving only me. I knew it. The very soil felt strange beneath my boots. The handwriting on the lid, though familiar, was not my own. Or was it? I stared with wide eyes at the words.

I felt a sudden, inexplicable nausea. The artifacts within—a collection of cryptic notes and a single, dried flower—felt like a premonition. I stumbled back from the open box. I had to get away, get out of there. I felt a need to break the air and feel it again.