Noah’s heart stopped.
He pulled it out slowly.
It was a piece of old fabric. Faded. Dirty. Almost falling apart.
But in one corner were three small white flowers.
Hand-embroidered.
Noah sank to his knees.
— Dad…
Daniel turned around.
– What is?
Noah held the cloth up with trembling hands.
— I think that belonged to Lily.
Daniel stared at it. All the color drained from his face.
Then he whispered:
Then he whispered:
— Don’t touch anything else.