Charlotte brushed the leaves and limbs back from the roots and reached inside the concealed space under the tree.
Her fingers closed around the rusted box and she pulled it out of its secret place.
The hinges of the metal lunchbox squeaked and screeched against her effort as she coaxed it open.
Inside were her treasures… a Plymouth key ring belonging to her father and a broach her mother had worn every day.
A baseball card sat under a matchbox corvette that had belonged to her little brother.
This is all that remained from the fire 25 years ago today.
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