Drawer of Memory

The room was completely silent, except for the quiet ticks that came often from a rusted clock - a beautiful timepiece that was tossed carelessly on the floor. The floorboards creaked with much disturbance as an old grandma entered the room cautiously, as if she was disturbing the spirit of her late husband. The fragrant smell that he left behind in this room somehow made her feel more comforted. She walked towards a shelf with extraordinary large strides and picked up a small leather hat. She sighed in realization as she peered at it closely, laughing in amusement as she remembered the time her late husband had worn it and she squeezed it tight, the memory filling the pain she had gone through when he had died. She gasped as she recognised a faded photograph of herself with him, that sat delicately upon the mantle piece. Her eyes began to brim with tears, the lines on her forehead forming even deeper as she touched the face of her loved one. She sobbed, the grief much too overwhelming for her to bear. 

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Lightening struck against the crooked wooden house. Heartbroken, she picked a key from the mantelpiece. There was no stopping her now. She made her way towards her most treasured drawer which contained the most heartbreaking memories. She carefully unlocked it and reached for her husbands cigarette pipe and his glasses. She examined them carefully before putting them into either of her pockets. She held up a wrinkled hand as she was trapped inside the vision of seeing her beloved husband smoking the pipe and turning towards her, not much caring if she appreciated this or not. She cast her head down at the forbidden memory. 

She sobbed more as she began to examine each of the objects that lay in the drawer of memory. All the books that he had written, his old walking stick, the scarf she had stitched for him which she buried her head into dolefully. She managed to fit most of these into her pocket. She walked with large heavy steps towards the door that led to her bedroom. Unfortunately, his cigarette pipe dropped out of  her pocket, and she almost walked upon it, but stumbled and fell on the floor and began to bleed with agony. Tears began to pour out of her eyes as she started to picture the moment they had met. The memory dissolved away much too soon and she collapsed, resting her head against the wall. She began to die a slow death, her eyes closing peacefully as her head dropped on the floor.