Barely aware of the tattered gloves and the cuts staining them crimson,
Ethel examined the opening. It was now large enough to squeeze her
hand inside. She took a deep breath. Her heart pounded with anticipation.
Then she carefully pushed her hand inside the cavity and probed around.
Her swelling fingers brushed over a few rough pieces of rubble buried in
grainy sand.
She dismissed the first pang of disappointment.
Her fingertips were getting numb, but she ignored their growing
clumsiness and reached deeper inside, combing the gritty matter at the
bottom of the hole with desperate persistence.
Nothing.
A lightning bolt cut through the encroaching darkness, and the first fat
drops of rain applauded it loudly on the roof.
Just then, the door leading into the house flew open with
