Today we write about: the locket.
Busy morning around these parts. Helped Kat's dad pick up and unload two truckloads of wood shavings (for general garden use) and then rented a rototiller (to till between the rows of strawberry plants).
The afternoon settled down a little but we'll be back out there tomorrow to work on spreading the wood shavings and seeding the winter cover crops.
I didn't mean it to be, but this ended up being a continuation from yesterday's writing.
Sorting through the ashes, it was the only thing of value he found. Silver, heart-shaped, its chain missing. Its contents a mystery, as the heat of the fire had sealed it shut. A jackhammer might have managed to get it open but he wasn't about to go looking for one.
Besides, what did it matter whose picture was inside? And what business of his was it to find out? Just useless, distracting curiosity. Keeping his mind away from the haunting landscape he was traveling through.
He was on foot now. The damned gas tank sprang a leak. Must have been a rock the tires kicked up when he was driving cross country to avoid a town he hadn't liked the look of. In hindsight, he guessed he should have just taken his chances. Probably would have been fine.
Or maybe he'd be captured or dead or worse.
He stuffed the locket in a jacket pocket and moved through the remains of the house toward the front door. He couldn't explain why he didn't just leave it behind. He couldn't explain why he did much of anything those days.
Movement in the shadows across the street. He decided the back door was a better option.
At least he could explain why he made that choice.