Gemotions

The shovel struck something solid. He knelt, brushing away the dirt. The tin can looked old, buried deep. As he opened it, a faint scent of lavender, almost completely faded, drifted out. He found a collection of pressed wildflowers, brittle with age, and a photograph of a child, smiling, clutching a stuffed rabbit. He studied the image, noting the worn patches on the rabbit, the way the child's eyes crinkled at the corners. The image ignited a feeling of tenderness. He carefully re-sealed the capsule, then spent the rest of the afternoon reburying it, taking care to position it deeper in the earth.