Opening a box belonging to a great-great-grandparent, they smiled warmly. This was truly a treasure. An heirloom beyond any they could have desired as an inheritance. Their grandparent had always been an avid writer since they were young. And what was in the box? Diaries. From the time their grandparent had been a child, into adulthood, into old age, and even a few weeks before their serious decline made it impossible for them to do more than sleep, and write in their dreams. -- Anon Guest
GrampGramp had been one hundred and fourteen when he passed. The old man had joked that Death wouldn't take him while he could tell the Grim Reaper a story. Death must have been patient about the lack, since GrampGramp had lasted three more years beyond his ability to keep one story in mind.
"I have a box for you," GrampGramp repeated towards the end. "It's under the bed." And of course Lil had to find it and show it to him so his shattered mind was at ease.
Now that he was beyond worrying about anything, Lil was reluctant to open it.
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