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19 Jun 2010

Everybody Needs a Hobby

Fiction

The house was hers, and everything in it. Six generations of family history, both metaphorically, and in the form of mementos in the form of register, photos, some diaries, books, and all the suitcases, clothes, crockery, and other things someone at some point didn't use anymore, but didn't want to throw away, either.

She wanted to burn it down, get rid of all that weight.

Alas, that was impractical. And there might just be something interesting among all that stuff. Sorting through it would take ages.

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