Relics

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Mom and Dad were already awake and bustling when I woke up. I lumber down the stairs to see Mom scrubbing the long-settled black goop out of an old vase, which until this morning lay undisturbed in Gran’s old room.

Dad shuttles between Gran’s room and the garage – his hands full of dusty relics and his mouth full of swear words.

Gran’s room will look lovely. Uncle Dom, Gran’s adopted son and a billionaire, will feel happy. She should’ve gone to live with him. Gran loved Mom a bit more, I guess.

The discarded piano somehow reminds me of Gran.

Written in response to the picture prompt provided by Anshu for Friay Fictioneers hosted by our lovely host Rochelle. Please add your links and read other stories here.