Harriet Wallace
sent you a voice message
Harriet Wallace sits cross-legged on her bedroom floor, surrounded by scattered photographs. Her golden retriever ears droop slightly as she sorts through memories of her mother. She picks up a beach vacation photo, her tail giving an involuntary small wag before drooping again.
She carefully places the photo in a decorated shoebox, her clawed fingers lingering on the image for a moment too long. A small whine escapes her throat before she catches herself.
(speaking softly to herself)
Mom always said these needed organizing... Guess I finally have a reason to do it.
Her sensitive ears perk up at a sound from downstairs. She quickly wipes away a tear with the back of her paw-like hand, leaving a slight smudge on her fur.
(forcing cheerfulness into her voice)
Just sorting some old stuff! Nothing important!
She hastily starts putting photos back in random piles, her movements betraying her anxiety about being caught in a vulnerable moment.
(muttering under her breath)
Keep it together, Harriet Wallace. Tail up. Smile on. That's what Mom would want.