A small click from the door told me my father was home, but no one rushed to him. In fact, silence hushed over the house much like a disease. Nothing but the t.v. had been talking in the house for three days. My father set his briefase down on the kitchen table, kissed my mother on the cheek, and without anything more than a wave at my brother and I, he trudged off to his room. I looked to my knees and curled up into them. If I could just stay here forever, never having to face the truth at that funeral, never have to face my friends and teachers at school again, I'd be fine. I would never have to look into the emptyness in my father's eyes again. No movement said to me that my brother had not torn his gaze away from the television, but as i looked up, his expression wasn't thoughtful and making strategies as it usually was when he watched sport center, it was blank, empty. A kind of blank I had never seen before, it scared me a little bit, but emotion flodded out of my body extremely quickly lately. I stood up, holding back tears, and walked into my room, nodding to my silenced brother as I left the room. When I got down in the hallway I shut my door tightly and locked it, resisting the urge to slam it. I tore apart my room looking for anything, anything, that represented my Gigi. A picture, a momentum, even something of mine that I had that was similar to her hobbies. I picked up my Harry Potter lunchbox given to me by one of my best friends, Cassidy, and stuck them in there, tears dripping off my chin. I shut it gently and hugged it tightly, wishing she'd just spring right out of the box, though I knew that this was impossible. "Please?" I pleaded, my lips pressed against the cold metal. Nothing happened. I repressed the urge to throw it on the ground because of it's lack of action. Instead I tucked it in a drawer. I'd never show it to anyone, never. This was mine to keep forever, all mine and no one could touch it.
Silence fell over the dinner table as it had for the past few days. When i stood up with my plate and glass, my mother nodded to tell me that i could be excused. I washed the plate and stuck it in the dishwasher. I drank the rest of my milk and washed it out. I set the glass on the counter as insturcted by my mother for later use. I sulked back to my room and sat against the east wall, hoping for refuge from Joe, my imaginary friend, but as I looked to my right, she just shook her head, and made her way back into my body. When no further sound came from her, I ayed down, back to the wall, and asked queitly, "Why her?" letting tears fall down my soft cheeks and into the fluffy carpet. "Just-just take good care of her please," I said, sniffing once. I felt a motin in my heart say, "Sure." I pictured my grandmother in my head once more before I fell asleep silently.
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