The 2 bags in front of me feel like a loss of some sort. Filled with trash and items I don’t use. Despite my lack of use for them, I know my eyes might water when getting rid of them.

My heart gets a little slash as the donation center worker reaches into my trunk and takes one of the bags. Another hole in my heart forms as I slowly dump the trash bag into the dumpster.

My spirit has left me empty as I get back into the small junky car. Letting go of those bags bites at me until the morning.

Somehow, though, the morning feels a little better. The house clean and spotless. Maybe I could live without that stuff.

Consumed by bunches of wrapping, I reach for another long tube covered by more of the bright colorful, birthday themed wrapping paper.

“Oh! This one’s from us! We thought that since your turning 18, we would keep the family tradition!” My mom interrupted.

I keep her words in mind as rip the top of the tube and pull out what’s inside. A worn out, aged piece of parchment is in my hands.

Laughter escapes me uncontrollably at the thought of a mere map being a “family tradition”.

“It’s not funny! This is seriously part of our family history!” My Dad lectures me.

I raise my eyebrow at him and decide to look at the map. I recognize the red X in the middle as that one place we found a small hut in the middle of nowhere while on a trip to Sicily.

“Wait… why do we have this?” I ask

“Well, you see… that hut belonged to a witch, and that witch… was your great, great, great grandmother’s.” My mom answers.

“She was known as the Witch of Sicily. She cursed anyone who touched this keychain.” Me dad explained while holding out a keychain with a small crystal I recognize as Sodalite.

I roughly yank the crystal keychain, getting a scoff from my Dad, and touch it gently. I will ensure it’s safety forever… for you Nonna.

I can’t even hear anything they’re saying because of how numb my ears are. There’s a constant tugging at my shirt that feels like a tugging on my brain. I smell a non existent pizza that should have been here 10 minutes ago.

My heart has been infected by a disease of darkness. The memory of seeing my mom leave with a friend repeats in my mind. It makes my fist clench at the thought of it. I don’t want to hate my mom. She deserves time off, but why at the expense of me?

The golf ball in my throat can’t be contained anymore. The beavers keeping the water dam in my eyes have left. Leaving the dam to break. My 9 year old brother, 5 year old sister, and somehow, my 1 year old sister stopped all the noise. I don’t quite know why, but it seemed to help.

Despite the unnaturally bright lights of both the screens and the other lights above me, the room still has a depressing feeling. Probably because of just how bored I am. It’s the same thing, people come in, they buy groceries, and then they leave. The thing is, I can’t even see what they buy so it’s not like I could entertain myself with that either. The only thing I find of interest is the little boy who comes in everyday. Except, he does something different everyday. Some days, all he does is get the coffee from the cafe. Other days, he only gets groceries. Occasionally, he buys groceries, then buys coffee.

I’ve always wondered why he comes in. Why is someone so young buying groceries? And drinking coffee no less!

I have so many questions about him. None of them were answered before the day he didn’t come in and never came back.