Jane

She followed the agent through the doorway and a spasm of pain contorted her face.

The living room was dark and dusty with an air of neglect, filled with worn-out,

distressed, leather and wood furniture. Hanged on the wall above the clean chimney

was a picture of a little girl. She was posing for the photo in the middle of a garden

with a smile covering her face.

“We thought there are no heirs. That’s why the house was on the market.” The agent

said.

A voice started ringing in her ear: “Call your mom. Call her Jane.”

“Just once” she replied biting her nails.

“Hi,”

“Why? My dad is gone, and it’s her fault. If she could only pay attention to other

people’s feelings and pains, if only...”

“She is alone now” her husband had interrupted. “In the hospital. You can’t hold onto

this grudge. Just one visit. It’s good for you.”

The hospital was busy. The receptionist didn’t even bother to raise her head and

only mumbled “204” when Jane acquired about the room number.

Mother was alone in the room, staring at the TV with her fat body covering most of

the bed and her chubby fingers holding the remote. The image with which Jane was

very familiar.

She turned her head and frowned. “Now she shows up. Ha! Now that I am almost

dead. Do you want your inheritance? I gave it all to the city. That’s right! Don’t look at

me with your bugged-out eyes you leech; you killed your dad, you caused him and I

so much pain, I hope you die in pain.”

The room started turning around Jane’s head. Things stopped being real. She felt as

if she is in a movie. She was an actress in a scene. It was not her who put the pillow

on her mother’s face until she stopped breathing. It was the character she was

playing. She was innocent!

So, it was fine that she left the room with a smile on her face. And was here now, claiming her inheritance.

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