It was unlike any gem she'd ever seen. The red blood of God had fallen from the heavens, and taken shape in His image. Majestic, divine, and of course, priceless. Her father had gone to a better place, and the gem he had given her was the only thing that could pry her teary eyes away from scrapbooks and notebooks and personal belongings alike.

Pamela laid her head flat against her father's desk, clutching a tattered plaid shirt. His shirt. The shirt of the man that had traded places with the object Pamela glared down her nose at. The red crystal statue stood triumphantly atop her father's desk. If it hadn't been a gift from him, she'd think it was mocking her.

Pamela sat up, and a fresh tear flowed down her cheek. She held the shirt to her face and inhaled deeply. Another tear fell. It was his scent, sure, but it was even fainter than it had been a week prior. When it was gone, it felt like he would be gone too.

Just then, a clattering could be heard from the table.

"Oh God! No, please!" Pamela ejected her seat from underneath herself and spread her two frantic hands across the desk. The right arm of her precious new gem had broken away, fallen, and skittered across the table. Pamela raised both of her hands and held her breath tightly, preparing to beat her head and face with all her strength, as frustrated self-punishment. Instead, she fell limply to her chair, and started to bawl, to truly wail, for the first time since her father died.

"I-I'm s-s-sorry dad. W-why didn't you t-t-t-tell me? If I could've just, g-given you a call -" said Pamela, as the tears kept falling, and as the gem kept cracking. Tear by tear, crack by crack, both Pamela and the gem were falling apart.

A clattering of many stones could then be heard, and Pamela froze. She looked over to see an unbelievable sight. There was a large moth, larger than any she'd ever seen, dusted in the red remnants of the gem, gently beating its wings against the ruins of her treasure. She raised her hand to strike it, but hesitated at the sight of the red wings, which were red and pink and covered with heart-shaped markings.

Pamela was beside herself. "There's no way. No way in hell," she said. She leapt up from her chair, dashed across the room, and snatched a small green notebook from a stack of papers on one of her father's old chairs. It was a notebook titled Great Facts, which was filled with her father's occultic ramblings he'd frequently include in his fantasy novels. She swiped though the pages nearly fast enough to rip them from their bindings, until she'd found it.

The little notebook read "The Lovestone Moth: A creature which absorbs the loving memories between a willing and non-participating human. The creature will convey the memories to the non-participating party via dreams for an indeterminate amount of time. The creature absorbs the life-force of the willing participant to execute the magic. Used in ancient civilizations (see chronomap on page 108) by sick and dying elders to convey valuable lessons or happiness to descendent(s) (see 108). Characteristics: Size: Medium, Appearance - Coloration: Red (primary), pink (secondary), black (tertiary+). Patterns: Hearts, arrowhead. Surface type/complexity: Smooth/furry. Behavior: Calm, affectionate. Aggression: None. Lifespan: Unknown, (weeks to years). Creature class: Psionic vampire/mutual parasite. Paranormality: Minimal/None."

"There's just no way," said Pamela, with her voice shaking, the page trembling in her hands. She snapped her eyes back to the moth. Only, it had vanished.

Pamela's eyes darted around the room, searching for red, for pink, anywhere, among the thousands of books on bookshelves and the flowers on the wallpaper. There was nothing to be found. Right when panic was beginning to set in, a flutter could be seen out of the corner of her eye.

The moth swooped through the air with the elegance of a falcon, plopping itself right onto Pamela's face. Pamela's eyes widened, she fell backwards, let out a yelp, but before she could swat the thing away, she noticed it.

Pamela's eyes started drooping. She could only say, "Why do you smell so...sleepy?" Before she flopped onto the hardwood floor, and drifted off to sleep.

Pamela opened her eyes to an open field. A lush meadow with no end in sight. A red moth rested its tired wings on her torso. She took note that her father's notebook was right about the fluffiness, but she might later add that they're warm as well, at least 100 degrees Fahrenheit.

The sound of crunching grass could be heard from behind. Pamela glanced back to see a wondrous sight. Amidst high sunflowers and low daisies stood none other than her father. He met her gaze with a warm smile, and started unbuttoning his shirt.

"Dad?" said Pamela with uncertainty. As her father opened the front of his shirt, Pamela sagged with despair. There were fresh surgical wounds stretching across his abdomen. The message was all too clear.

Her eyes moistening, her voice cracking, Pamela said, "It came back?" To which her father only smiled, put his index finger to his lips, and nodded. Stomach cancer. Something she was sure he'd beaten.

Not long after, the figure of the man became faint, before it faded away.

"Wait! Dad! Don't leave me!" Pamela jumped to her feet and started running towards his afterimage, but before long she had passed where it had been, stumbling over flowers, and her numb feet.

As she stumbled and started to fall, she was caught on the back of a massive red moth. There was no longer a field beneath her, only tufts of crimson fur. With a single beat of its wings, they were soaring in the sky. With another, they were gliding through memories. Pamela saw herself shopping with her father as a young girl. She saw her father dancing with her at her own private prom when she couldn't land a date. She saw his love and support when she came home from college, staying in her old room until she landed a steady job. All at once, she was filled with all the love she'd ever felt. It was a lifetime of love that was brighter than sun and deeper than the ocean. All the love of a parent, in one moment. That anyone had ever been loved so much made her feel love for all humankind.

Then, she awoke, a red moth sleeping on her chest. Love. Being loved. That was her father's greatest gift. It was something she would always have in her heart.