Wallace sat back on his knees and wiped the sweat off his brow, the smell of damp earth filling his nose. He admired his work so far and thought with satisfaction about how he really did have the most beautiful flower garden in the neighborhood.

Picking up his hand trowel, he starts to dig a small hole to transplant his daises when his spade clinks on something golden and shiny. Sometimes he comes across old coins or jewelry buried in the dirt while he gardens, and his mind starts racing about what the new discovery could be as he contues digging.

His excitement turn to horror as he realizes there is still a finger inside the ring he’s unearthed.