The locket

I went up to the Volcano to look at the glow, the way I do when I need to. A miner was working the rock one step from where I stood. His name is Keyle.

I have been asking miners the same question lately, because their answers are always better than mine. What is the strangest thing you have ever pulled out of the ground?

He told me.

A rusted locket with a faded photo. Still smells like old perfume, which is weird for something buried for decades.

I keep thinking about that perfume. The metal gave up. The picture gave up. But the smell of whoever wore it held on, down in the dark, for all that time.

Some things do not want to be forgotten. They find a way to stay.

I asked him if he kept it. I told him I would have, in a heartbeat.