Leah never liked funerals. They were full of people who were dishonest, and only there for appearances. All the condolences they gave were empty, as chances are they never really cared about how any other specific person felt. People wanted to see if they were in the will, to see if they were getting a piece of the pie.
Leah made her way through the crowd to the stairs. She noticed many different kinds of looks as she passed, but didn’t care about the meaning behind them. As her hand touched the antique railing, her heart skipped a beat and she felt a lump in her throat. ‘Not infront of them, I won’t let them have the satisfaction,’ she thought as she slowly made her way to the next floor.
There wasn’t really anyone on the second floor, and this relieved Leah. She was tired of dealing with all the fakers and liars. She now stood before a large heavy door with a skeleton key lock. Ruffling through her pocket she found the key, inserted it into the hole and turned. This was the one spot she could truly be alone, where she could finally just be herself. The attic.
The stairway was narrow, but not uncomfortably so. The top opened up to a large space which was filled with the history her grandmother had left behind. Trunks, boxes, sewing manequinnes, mirrors, and a lot of dust. There was some old furniture that her grandmother decided to keep, but wasn’t in style with the rest of the house. Leah sat in one of the old lionclaw chairs and stared blankly at the opposite wall. It still didn’t feel real. There would be no longer be the smell of fresh bacon and pancakes to wake her. No more laundry on the line. No more grandma.
The last thought sent tears streaming down her face. She couldn’t hold them anymore, and there wasn’t much of a reason to. Nothing would ever be the same. Her life had changed forever. No one would ever understand her the way her grandmother did. She had no one left to turn to. No one believed in her or supported her. Her family had all but disowned her in the years past. Leah tried to blame her grandmother for leaving her. She tried to hate her, but those effort never brought anything into fruition. In her fury, Leah picked up an old ashtray and threw it at a mirror.
It shattered and splintered, the fragments casscaded around the areaof the frame. Leah’s breath was heavy when she noticed a glint from behind where the glass was. The mucky windows didn’t let in much light, so Leah moved closer to the object. It was caked in dust except for a few small spots where glass had removed the dirt. She reached out her hand to wipe away more of the dust, but hesitated for a moment. This had been well hidden, pehaps her grandmother never intended it to be found?
A moment had passed before she finally pushed her hand the last few inches it needed to touch the object. Under the dust, the surface was smooth and surprisingly warm. Leah grabbed it from the hole and wiped off the rest of the dust. It was an egg, but not one you’d find in a grocery store. It was much larger, and a dark gray; almost black. She traced her finger across the cross that seemed to be apart of the egg. Though it was covered in dust, it shone as though it had been polished everyday. A puzzled look came across Leah’s face as the egg warmed in her hands. She felt a strange connection to it, as though she’d had it all her life; like she had found a long lost friend. Perhaps this day wasn’t as full of tradgedy as Leah thought it would be.
