Gemotions

The shovel bit into the sandy soil, sending a spray of dirt across her already stained trousers. Eleanor felt the familiar ache in her lower back, a companion in her solitude. Her new house was built on what used to be a community garden. She was attempting to install a bird bath, anything to fill the empty hours. The silence, now, was crushing. It had only been six months since her daughter, Lily, had gone. A metallic clang echoed as the shovel struck something resistant.

A box, buried deep. The lock was simple, but stuck. She forced it open. Inside, wrapped in a plastic bag, was a small, stuffed bear, Lily's favorite, its button eyes staring blankly at her. Her breath hitched. There was also a crudely drawn picture of a family. The family. Her hands were shaking so hard she could hardly breathe.