Michael Wirth

One Spring Day in May

The blade of the shovel cut through the dirt, releasing the scent of loamy earth into the air. She always loved the springtime, when the trees grew lush with verdant leaves, and the flowers bloomed in shades of red and pink. The air was sweeter, warmer, and provided relief from the cold harshness of winter. But this spring was different. The weight of what she had to do hung in the air like cigarette smoke and made her chest hurt just as badly.