She walked into the back garden. She hadn’t visited for 10 years, but even in its overgrown state, the house, garden and greenhouse all seemed to look the same.
She nudged the greenhouse door open. It fell from its hinges.
The pot at the bottom right hadn’t been moved, she thought. She buried her hand and pulled out the face of a young man. The dry soil appeared to have preserved it to some degree. She slipped it into her handbag. She might come back for another one in another 10 years.