Gemotions

The shovel bit into the earth with surprising ease. Sunlight streamed through the gaps in the old oak, dappling the freshly turned soil. Sarah grinned, a wide, unrestrained expression. The small metal box, caked in mud, was more thrilling than any lottery win. “Wow,” she breathed, brushing dirt from her hands and pulling it open. Inside, nestled amongst yellowed newspapers and a forgotten Beanie Baby, was a pressed flower, still retaining a faded lavender hue. A smile threatened to split her face as she remembered the summer she buried it.