"Are you sure this is the tree?" asked Margaret.
"Yeah," replied Anthony with a frown, holding a shovel.
"Really? Wow. After twenty years, it's still standing. Do you remember where it is?"
"Of course. I'm only thirty five, Margaret. Fifteen steps." Facing the tree, he stood beside a big rock that was leaning on the base. Then, he started walking in the opposite direction, counting his steps aloud.
"Do you think it's still there?"
He started digging. "How come you don't remember anything, Margaret? Did I go with the box that we buried?"
"It's been twenty years, Anthony. I can't possibly remember everything."
"I can. Six letters, a bracelet, two movie tickets, and some pictures."
She looked away, her eyes blinking fast. "How's your wife?"
"She's fine."
Suddenly, he hit something hard with the shovel. They looked at each other and smiled.
