Blanky

“It was the only thing left of her.”

Steve finds his dead daughter’s blanket in a house that should be empty. It shows how grief makes you hallucinate things you desperately want to be real.

“He couldn't let it go.”

The way Steve clings to that piece of fabric is heartbreaking. We all have that one object that keeps us tethered to a person who is gone.

“The house was a tomb for things that hadn't happened yet.”

Losing a child turns a regular home into a series of landmines. Every corner holds a memory that can physically hurt you.

The blanket starts changing and getting heavier. It feels like a metaphor for how sadness eventually takes up physical space in a room.