Unfinished
It was a Sunday when I walked into Grandpa’s room, intending to give it a proper clear-out. As soon as I stepped in, I seemed to see Grandpa sitting in his armchair again, his words fresh in my ears.
‘Don’t go messing with my things,’ Grandpa always mumbled, as he sat in his armchair, the sunlight pouring in like golden honey through the window, softly illuminating the right side of his face, sketching out its contours as his lips moved up and down.
After completing Grandpa’s funeral arrangeme
‘Don’t go messing with my things,’ Grandpa always mumbled, as he sat in his armchair, the sunlight pouring in like golden honey through the window, softly illuminating the right side of his face, sketching out its contours as his lips moved up and down.
After completing Grandpa’s funeral arrangeme