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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