It was not meant for the drawer to open.
While searching the old bedroom dresser, Lila had habitually yanked at it, expecting to find an additional quilt for the tomato plants outside. The weatherman had warned of an unusually cold spell, the kind that could kill delicate plants if they weren't covered. This year's coolness was early, sneaking up on the latter days of summer like a warning sign, bringing with it the aroma of fading leaves and the prospect of fewer daylight hours.
Massive and dark walnut, the dresser had likely been a part of the home long before they purchased it. The majority of its drawers opened without any trouble, exposing the usual assortment of extra linens, moth-eaten blankets, and the collected mess from prior residents. This bottom drawer, albeit old and twis
