She felt incredibly stupid standing in what could be described as a metaphor for her own life at the moment.
“Was it foolish to dig if you didn't know what you were digging for?” she wondered aloud. There was no difference between her and the red earth; she wore its colours well from hours of searching for what she did not know.
Hello, can I help you?
A voice broke through her thoughts, she turned around and looked up to find it belonged to a woman just as young as she was; they could have gone to the same school or something– she couldn’t tell.
“No, thank you”, she smiled at her new guest, a little out of breath. I’m his granddaughter she said, pointing to the headstone. Nice earrings.
- and so you’re digging up his grave? Thanks?
“He isn’t buried here”, she explained. I’m just looking for something.
“oO-Okay. I mean, what you do in your compound is your business, but I live over there, and my room faces this way. I woke up this morning to say my prayers, I made breakfast, I took a long shower, and you’re still here. So again, do you need help?
She did not hesitate, “I need help getting out”.
-They both started to laugh.
That night, as she showered, she told herself. It was time for phase two. Her grandfather was indeed missing, not dead, not buried.
What she didn’t know was why.
But she knew it had something to do with the “nice” neighbour who helped her out of his grave. The neighbour whose ears glinted with her grandmother’s earrings. The earrings that disappeared on the same day her grandfather did.
