Inheritance

The house seemed so quiet, but not to these two

the two who looked at each other as the rays of sun

slipped under the shade.

Sunlight that engulfed the dust in the air and barely warmed

the cold stained oak floors. These two looked at each other, dressed for

the cold of February but nothing could warm them for the

task they needed to do.

They found their mother a week before, laid on the floor dead

from an aneurism and not found for four days later. Her body bloated with natural gases and bodily fluids building from bacteria eating away

at the body.

Now she was gone, the only thing filling the room besides the cold and sunlit dust in the air was the bloated guilt of children who should have checked on their mother sooner.

The older one, dark haired like their mother, strode to the window shade

letting in the light and warmth and spreading, lighting the room where they needed to work.

Work with cleaners and brushes and hopefully warm them from the cold guilt that settled on them as they thought of their inheritance that they knew nothing about. And as they looked at the floor, as the sunlight filled the room, they look at the last item of their inheritance, the stained spot on the cold floor that was their mother as she left this earth...