“We’re not going to miss her!”, he said. I sat in the kitchen. My hair hung loose, grandmother used to force my long hair into two tight braids. Grandfather was making a soup. Actually he did everything. She, always stuck in the chair in the living room. There she fell asleep for good, in the middle of a sneeze.
“I’ll be back soon.” Grandfather took grandmother’s glasses and left the kitchen. The smell of the soup filled the room.
“Finally, this is me,” said grandfather. I turned around. There he stood smiling, grandmother’s glasses on his nose, dressed in grandmother’s dress.
Submitted to Friday Fictioneers.