Aunt Molly was never included in family gatherings.
She’s strange, everyone said.
Yet, here I am standing among her clutter and dust.
Why did she name me her heir?
I barely knew her.
Was there a message among these relics of antiquity?
She made potions, everyone said.
What kind of potions?
Was she a witch or chemist?
She mixed elixir concoctions to heal the believers.
The estate appraiser will be here soon. Perhaps, he can give me some insight.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Did you just say $50,000 dollars for that purple bottle?
Yes, Ma’am. It’s a collectable.
Dear Auntie Molly …. I love you.
2015©isadora delavega
Genre: Flash Fiction
Word Count: 100 Words
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