Last One

She found me sitting cross legged on the floor of the kitchen, an open jar of pickled eggs in front of me.

"Hun?"

"They're rotten."

She looked at the eggs.

"Well, you don't like eggs that much, do you?"

I looked up at her, my eyes red.

"I'll go get a new pack from the store then, give me a minute."

"No, no...

Look, my grandmother made all sorts of pickled things, and jams and shit. And this was... This was the last one. The last thing I had to remember her."

"What about the house?"

"I... Fine, that too."