Ivy gazed out to the baby elephant nuzzling into his mother. She wished that she could be happy like that. The artwork was painted so carefully, it almost felt as if she were inside it.
The only thing that filled Ivy with pure happiness nowdays was the sweet tune from her violin. It was her mother’s violin before hers and Ivy’s most treasured possession. The violin was a beautiful instrument, glossy purple in colour. Ivy’s heart ached as she tried hard to remember her. All she could conjure up was a faint silhouette and the soft whisper of the lullaby she sang to Ivy the night before she left.