Moving

The sand poured through the tiny hourglass. It was on a keychain that her uncle gave her when he came back from some trip when Maree was only five. She thought it was amazing – the sand was blue and so fine that she could barely see it pass through the pinched neck. One half was designed to look like a smiling face and the other like a frowning face. Even now, she had to have all the sand in the smiling side before she could put it away.

It was one of the last things she packed. She put the box outside her bedroom door and walked through the empty house to the kitchen where the clean products were stacked. It only took fifteen minuets to scrub her room; all that had to happen now was the removalists would come to take the furniture. Some auction house was taking it all. Maree picked up the box and strode to her car. As she drove away, she didn’t look back.

 

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